


Breathe, One, Two

by SolitaryEngel



Series: Breathe Universe [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Eventual Smut, Hidden Depths, Homophobia, M/M, Not Epilogue Compliant, Past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Polyjuice Potion, Possessive Behavior, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-08-23 00:27:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 97,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16608347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SolitaryEngel/pseuds/SolitaryEngel
Summary: Shortly after graduating his "eighth" year at Hogwarts, the grand future Harry had hoped for starts crumbling beneath his feet. He can't cope with the aftermath of the war, though with the help of his mind Healer and his new, intense friendship with the mysterious wizard Sebastian, he might have a chance.Only, Sebasation is gay, a quality Harry didn't know was reviled by so many of his close friends. Even so, there's just something about the older man that he can't just ignore...Written by a fellow complex-PTSD survivor mostly in response to the fact that so many stories are irritatingly inaccurate.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, all. 
> 
> The contents of this story are heavily influenced by my own struggle and recovery with complex-PTSD. Despite the fact that so much guiding the plot depends on Harry's own experience with his recovery, the *focus* of the plot will mainly be on the deliciously slow-burning relationship between him and the mysterious "Sebastian." I usually write original works that I never end up finishing, and therefore never even think about publishing, but when I had the idea for this fanfiction story it grabbed me by my lady balls and refused to let me go. I hope you enjoy the story and the way that the burgeoning relationship within develops.
> 
> At this point I have written seven full chapters already, and have written out what the contents will be up to the 23rd chapter. I still have more for them to experience after that point, but if for whatever reason I find myself completely losing interest and unable to finish this story (I never finish anything, it's a real risk) I promise that I will post the complete plot line that I have already -fully planned out- in chronological for you. You can start reading this story knowing that eventually you will know what happens all the way up to the close.
> 
> I have never let anyone read my personal works, so I imagine encouragement would probably go a long way to helping give me motivation to write if I ever slow down. I will never hold chapters hostage; I've just never received support before and I'm interested to see how it affects me. Therefore comments and even constructive "this part doesn't make logical sense" criticisms will be entirely welcomed.
> 
> The chapters will be (by my personal choice) unedited by a third party, so I will do my best to fine-tune them into acceptability. Feel free to point out goofs in comments.

# Chapter One

    The teapot emitted a soft wheeze, just a gentle escape of air as the water inside began to boil. The note sharpened and rose in pitch gradually, and Harry felt that same, ugly, _something_ partially unwind from his stomach. The new kettle would help.

    He pulled the cardboard box of sugar cubes from the cabinet overhead, noting that he had yet to replace the missing sugar bowl. Growing up he’d _served_ tea instead of ever having it, and at Hogwarts he’d only had it on rare occasions visiting Professor McGonagall or Dumbledore — _breathe, two, three, four. Hold, two, three, four, — but_  since he’d started visiting Healer Matilda he’d rather taken to having the ritual for his own. He wondered if he should get something exotic-looking to match the spicy masala blends he’d grown to prefer, but then decided against it. Who would he be fooling? He was not well-travelled in the slightest.

    He felt familiar gloom wrap around his middle, and forced himself to move with purpose, dropping two cubes into his waiting mug and pulling the screaming kettle from the heat, pouring the frothy milky blend through the strainer until he had a perfect cupful.

    “ _Evanesco,_ ” he intoned, dropping his wand gently over the top of the soggy spices caught by the mesh. When the gloom hit he needed to be precise and focused in his actions. If he could restore a feeling of control quick enough, he could rise out of it before it got to the point where he was crawling into his bed, unmotivated to feel better. He opened the silverware drawer, slipping his hand to the tea spoons and bringing one to the surface of his tea before getting a good look at it.

    It froze, barely a millimeter above the steaming surface as he realized whose spoon it was.

    “Fuck!” he raged, whipping the spoon away from himself and hurling it down into the half-filled wooden potion crate still waiting by the door to the living room. Magic crackled in the air around him, stronger and more destructive than when he had been an untested boy, and he scrabbled for control before it shattered something he still cared to keep.

    ‘ _Breathe, two, three, four. Hold, two, three, four. Out, two, three, four — BREATHE, two, three, four…’_

    It took him several repetitions before his pulse settled and the nausea abated. He shouldn’t have thrown the spoon, he thought calmly. It was lucky it had landed on the sweater, and not broken the photo frame or the tiny porcelain seeker statuette. He would have to mention this to Healer Matilda, and no doubt she would go probing after every long-past memory _possibly_ connected to the event to reduce their hold on his present.

    With another deep breath he reopened the silverware drawer, ready now to assess whatever he found, before realizing that the only reason that spoon had come into his hand at all was because he’d used so many without washing and replacing them. It had been hidden near the bottom of the stack and now the stack was nearly empty. He knew the sink was getting full but… he sighed.

    This was one of the many things he was working on. After the war, his self care had slipped. Not at first… but after a time, after a remarkably stable “eighth” year at the partially restored Hogwarts, after failing auror training and being left to his own devices for so long... it went. A short time later, a lot of other things had ‘went’ too.

    He stirred his tea sedately, breathing, and refusing to give into the urge to slam the drawer shut like he wanted.

 

 

    “It’s nice to see you all again. Today’s theme, as is written on the board, is ‘love.’ You may interpret this however you wish. Whatever feelings arise, positive or negative. Please remember to use the privacy charm we taught you if you are going to use the imaging spell.”

    Dean had his remarkably calming “Healer” voice on. Six months ago Harry had come to the opening session in support of his former roommate, as had Ron, Hermione, Seamus, Luna, and a few other former classmates Dean had bonded with during his terrifying seventh year during Voldemort’s reign. _‘Breathe, two, three, four—’_ Now Harry and one other man were the only ones who attended every session without fail. It’s not like the others still needed to come as a show of support, anyway… there were plenty of people who attended for the same reasons Harry did. The war left its mark on many.

    Harry placed the privacy charm around his canvas as he always did. He had no skill as an artist and relied heavily on the imaging charm to paint each week. He tapped his wand to his lip gently, wondering what memory to chase after, what might help him heal if he took the next three hours to paint it. Recently, _love_ had become such a hazard for Harry to think about that he knew he needed to be careful unless he wanted to undo a massive amount of progress. The wrong train of thought — more like the wrong obsessive rabbit hole — had proven to be immensely destructive even _before_ his semi-recent struggles, he couldn’t imagine how dwelling on _this_ wrong thing now could set him back.

_Breathe, two, three, four —_

    Harry thought he might have something in mind. Something he would likely never get over, no matter how many times he whined about it in a Healing session, no matter how many exercises they did to reduce its potency. A vision of a memory that wasn’t even his. For the theme… it was perfect.

    He incanted the spell on a sigh, his wand-tip resting gently against the prepped surface, the potion permeating it’s weave displaying the images in his head with sickening similarity to Legilimency. Harry guessed that the mind worked how it worked, whether his memories were being ripped from him in a dungeon or consensually coaxed out onto blank canvas. _Breathe, two, three, four._

    The image re-stabilized when he was calm, and Harry fidgeted internally, zooming and shaping the preferred point in time to fit suitably on the canvas. _That_ part he did rather well, according to Dean. He always complimented the exact moment chose, the angle, the structure of the subject versus the available canvas space. It was just when Harry started touching paint that his lack of skill started screwing everything up. Near the beginning of Harry's attendance Dean had suggested photography as a possible hobby instead, and Harry had needed more than twenty rounds of breathing, focusing on the intrusive image of Colin’s hands wrapped around his camera before he could quietly leave, painting unfinished.

    When the spell took hold, he called Dean over to see if the image was safe enough to remove the privacy shield. Sometimes people reacted badly — just like Harry — and he didn’t know how his chosen subject would be received.

    “I'm not going to lie and say I understand,” Dean responded upon seeing the image. “But today I think it’s safe. If Luna shows up later I’ll have to ask you to put the shields back in place.”

    Harry nodded in understanding. It wasn’t that he necessarily wanted just _anyone_ to see the inner workings of his head each week, but the spell made it so that he couldn’t see both the paints on the palette-table next to him and the image on the canvas at the same time. He’d learned very quickly with his lack of natural skill he _needed_ to see both to produce anything half decent. In any case, he had taken to arriving heavily glamored since the first time one of his paintings graced the cover of the Daily Prophet, alongside the article writer’s ‘grave concern’ over their savior’s mental well-being.

    ‘ _Breathe, two, three, four —’_

    “You seem to be having a hard time today,” his neighbor commented lightly.

    Sebastian was not like Harry, despite their similar coloring and glasses. He was an _actual_ artist, and he would work on a single painting for several weeks in a row until it was considered complete. He used paints that he _made himself_ , and his advice was the reason Harry had invested in more expensive muggle paints that he brought each week instead of using the low-quality tubes Dean supplied for free.

    Harry met his eyes carefully, seeing that the older man was using his spectacles to gauge his expression closely. He crooked a resigned smile, knowing the other man was using them to see past his glamour again. “I seem to be stumbling on a lot of triggers today.”

    Sebastian slowly nodded, obviously chewing on what he’d said and working out how to respond in return. He wasn’t usually a big talker anyway, and Harry canceled the privacy shield and rummaged through his rucksack for the right paints and brushes while the man decided on what he would say.

    “An interesting subject,” his neighbor finally commented instead, having taken longer than Harry had expected to find his words. Harry paused, removing two reds, two umbers, and a pthalo from the bag while he he himself drew up the appropriate words. Meanwhile, the man continued flatly, “It is not the face most would think of in regards to _love.”_

    Harry flinched — _breathe, two, three, four,_ he reminded himself — and met his eyes squarely. Sebastian had been looking through his spectacles at Harry since the first day he’d come in under glamour. He’d not betrayed Harry’s trust yet, and that mean’t a lot to the man who felt like everything else had fallen away from him.

_BREATHE, two, three, four._

    “I know a lot of people have had bad experiences with him,” he finally replied, as compassionately as he was able considering his heart was jackhammering against his ribs, “but for me, especially now, it is fitting.”

    Sebastian, after a long stare-down, returned to his own canvas without another word. Harry was surprised to see a slight shake to his own hands as he continued to pull his paints out. He'd known he felt a lot of admiration for the clearly talented painter, and grateful that the man was silently keeping his secrets, but he hadn’t realized that an exchange like that would affect him this much. He clenched his fists experimentally, and when he opened them again they were still.

    “I saw in the paper you were working to have him honored,” Sebastian said finally. He had yet to start working on his own blank canvas.

    “I…” Harry stopped. _Breathe_ , _two, three, four —_ “I can’t —”

    “It’s fine.”

    Harry was thankful again for his neighbor, and let his gaze rest back on the dark eyes staring out of his own canvas. The memory he’d chosen was of Snape, immediately after he’d resolutely declared the word that haunted Harry now: “Always.” He couldn’t think of a single greater example of love than that. Like he had told Sebastian… especially now.

    He’d been working on the painting steadily for nearly two hours before he realized that Sebastian’s painting was drastically different than anything he’d done before. Harry had been concentrating so hard he hadn’t paid much attention to his neighbor’s station but now after getting a glimpse of the wide brush strokes he was using to cover the entire canvas in bright green paint, he realized that the older man had spent the entire time until now mixing the single color until it had met his satisfaction.

    He normally painted incredible scenes complete with people so lifelike Harry thought he might be able to speak to them even without the animating potions and spells. But this approach, covering the entire canvas in one flat color, was entirely new.

    Sebastian had clearly noticed his attention had strayed. “I had expected to see a portrait of a young, freckled woman when the shield came down.” 

    Harry froze. Sebastian’s gaze jerked to his — how did he know already? — but then the answer crackled in the air around him — _breathe, one, two, three. Hold, one, two, three. Out, one, two, three._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You read all the way to the end? Thank you! Please leave a comment letting me what you think of this first chapter, it will help me figure out how to best cater to the HP fanfiction audience.
> 
> The next chapter will be out in a week or less. I have not decided a comfortable posting schedule.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we meet Harry's mind healer, and get a first glimpse at how his sessions work. It is based off of my own experience with receiving EMDR treatments. Harry's Healer's mannerisms are directly inspired by my own psychologist, who is an absolute godsend.
> 
> I was going to wait an entire week to post this chapter, but quite honestly I was *blown away* by your positive comments, and I really feel a strong desire to share more with you. I'm nervous about posting too quickly and running out of pre-written content, but I have eleven chapters done up now so hopefully posting the *second* early won't be too apocalyptic for me ;)

# Chapter Two

 

     “It was very brave of you to confront your feelings about Professor Snape in your art therapy class. I do wonder, if on top of your already difficult day, it wasn’t the best of decisions.”

     Harry nodded, taking a sip of the tea Matilda had provided as he pondered his response.

     “Yeah... I guess I can see that now. I think I’ve been slogging through for so long that I don’t notice until it swamps me.”

    “It’s interesting that this… Sebastian? — knew how to calm you down.”

     Harry frowned. There was something in her voice, something she wanted him to realize by himself. That was not a new approach between them so he thought about Sebastian’s bruising hold on his arm, the dark brown brows furrowed down hard over his nose, and the stern tone he used to guide Harry back down to calmness.

     “It probably has something to do with the fact that he didn’t treat me like anyone else has when I’ve been triggered,” he said slowly. “He didn’t treat me like I was fragile. He hurt me, actually,” he admitted, stuffing up the sleeve of his under-robe just high enough that she could see the bruises left by two of his fingers and his thumb ringing his forearm. Her face was concerned as they lingered on his skin, but he continued anyway.

    “He didn’t treat me like an undercover celebrity, or an injured victim. He grabbed me, stared right into my eyes, and _told me_ to breathe, and so I did.”

     “I’m curious to know how he knew about your breathing exercises,” Matilda said casually. He didn’t know if he had successfully discovered what it was she’d wanted him to figure out, but he was willing to keep following the path her questions and statements led them on.

     “He called it ‘box breathing.’” Matilda nodded slowly.

     “That’s a muggle term. Muggles don’t have the same advantages as we do,” she commented, hand sweeping to indicate the Pensieve and the trolly holding the different potions and instruments they sometimes used, “so they have delved far deeper than we into the construction of the brain itself to aid their- ah, _psychologists-_ in curing patients. We have a lot to learn from them in this aspect, Mind Healing is only just now becoming destigmatized as some of our population has now survived _three_ dark wizarding wars.”

     “I can’t imagine,” Harry murmured, staring at his lap. The Headmaster had been one of those to fight in all three. He hadn’t survived the last.

     “So, this Sebastian has proven to be quite the valuable friend so far.”

     Harry’s eyebrows rose far beyond his fringe at her far-too-innocent statement. Friend? He guessed that must be how it seemed to her, but Harry had not made a new _friend_ since he had been teaching the DA. He didn’t know how to accept anyone new into his life. Everyone close to him had fought by his side or died. Sebastian was quiet, and though his gaze was very direct and his mouth kept Harry’s identity a secret, they had little to say to each other beyond the little the older man had imparted on paint and brush care.

    “I _had_ found it interesting in our talks that you  haven’t ever mentioned a single name from your time in auror training,” Harry tensed, “-but from the first week you noticed this man peering at you through his glasses you’ve mentioned him almost every session.” She flipped through their past pages in her notepad as she spoke.

     “I’m not sure what you’re trying to say,” Harry said honestly. Matilda smiled crookedly in response.

     “Harry, I’m not trying to _say_ anything. I am just sharing with you some things that I have noticed.”

     Harry nodded, and buried his face in his tea.

     “Now, we have… about an hour left. I would like to spend some time focusing on the moment you had in the kitchen, when you found the spoon. What were you _feeling_ , when that happened?”

     Harry sighed. He’d known as soon as he threw the spoon that she would want to do a deep dive into it. “Anger, sad, anxiety,” he said slowly.

     “Anxiety isn’t a feeling, Harry,” she chided kindly.

     “Er--right.” He floundered, trying to remember the exact emotions she found acceptable, and she waited patiently. “You always say that anxiety is either fear or anger, so I guess I was afraid of…”

     Damn, this part was always so hard. But she was still smiling, so he refocused. “I guess I felt like Ginny cheating on me was proof. More proof, actually, that ultimately, I am unlovable.” There, he got it out.

     There was no pity in her gaze. No sadness, even. Just a kind smile, ready to hear what he had to say. Without her, he knew, he wouldn’t have healed as much as he had in their six months.

     “So, fear of being alone? Fear of being unworthy, perhaps?” Harry nodded mutely.

    “Yeah, those fit,” he responded, taking another sip when his voice came out hoarse with emotion.

     He didn’t need to explain to her why he felt what he did, that was never how she worked. Next, she would ask when was the first time he'd felt that way, and he would wrack his brain for the first relevant thing he can remember the Dursleys doing to him. She would extract the memory, place her wand against his head, and then go with him into the memory to confront his ghosts as soon as her extended-release healing spell had taken effect. He would emerge, shaky, and devastated, but after two days he would feel a little stronger, a little bit surer, and a little bit less like he was inexorably tied to others’ opinions of him. 

 

 

   “I’ve been seeing a Mind Healer.”

    “I know.”

    Harry grinned. Sebastian’s voice was thick with scorn. If he had been a less refined man he might as well have said, ‘ _Duh,_ you idiot.’

    “My Healer thinks we’re friends.”

     Sebastian was silent at that. Harry continued his painting of ‘greed,’ struggling with trying to paint a white object that was laying on a mostly-white background.

     After a while, Harry figured Sebastian wasn’t going to respond at all. He continued to press on to the question he was angling towards anyway. “Would you like to go for tea or a meal, sometime?”

     Another silence before— "I refuse to use your ridiculous fake name at a time such as this. Look at me, please.”

     Harry turned to him, frowning, and stopped short at the look of tightly contained horror on his face. “Are you asking me out… on a date?” the man whispered incredulously.

     Almost as if it were a separate being from him, Harry felt his face transform into an expression he didn’t think he’d ever made before. The position of the sum of his facial features for a wild moment felt completely alien as he processed what he’d just been asked with complete incredulity.

     “No!” he whisper-yelled back, equally horrified. “I don’t — I’m not — I’ve never even considered men like —”

     “Alright, settle down,” Sebastian said. Harry could tell now that the horror of the moment had passed the other man was greatly entertained by Harry’s struggle. His dark blue eyes watched Harry’s flapping hands with amusement, at least. He balled them in his lap in response, but didn’t turn away. He’d always gotten the sense that Sebastian valued eye contact, so even as humiliated as he felt he met the other man’s stare as he responded a bit more sedately, this time.

     “I apologize,” he started a bit formally, matching the older man’s preferred mannerisms. “In my youth — don’t _smirk_ at me — fine. At _Hogwarts_ , with the way things were, you either fought together, or against each other. That’s just how it was even in our very first year. I guess as an adult, now that the stakes are so much lower and life isn’t forcing me to be around _anyone_ these days, I am finding it harder to figure out who is becoming my friend and who isn’t. Healer Matilda seemed to be implying that you were… I guess I am at an utter loss how to… expand. That.” Harry was floundering again.

     “My apologies also,” Sebastian said slowly. “It has happened, now and again, when a young person gets wind of my… orientation, that they might seek me out for experimentation or a safe rebound, of sorts. With your reaction to my mentioning your,” he hesitated, and Harry got the sense he was navigating a verbal minefield inside his head, “previous… person of your own… I gathered you were recently single and feared that it was occuring once more.”

_‘He is_ so _formal,’_ Harry mused internally before deciding to lighten the mood with a joke. “Seems like you’ve got your own triggers.”

     The older man’s face twitched, but he responded seriously first. “I received my own help around your age and have since avoided collecting new triggers, but I also find myself wanting to say, ‘you have _no_ idea.’”

     Harry laughed.

    They went back to their paintings. Sebastian’s was a faceless blob man which Harry was sure would eventually become another flawlessly turned out portrait as details were added over top of the basic shapes. Things between them were quiet until Sebastian spoke up again, quietly, as if he did not want to be heard.

    “I find myself intrigued once again by your subject matter.”

     Harry smiled, daubing on more paint, less careful with this one than he had been with the emotional portrait of the late Professor Snape. “Do you like the green?”

     “I cannot believe those blobby things are what I think they are, though they must be.”

     Harry laughed again, wholly enjoying the other man’s consternation. Harry felt like he had done something wondrous, to have befuddled someone who seemed to have complete control of himself and his masterful paintings at all times. “Fourth year,” he began once his mirth was manageable again, “I sent Happy Christmas wishes to my relatives, as usual, and in return they sent me one, single tissue, wrapped and all. _Used_ , wrapped, and all.”

     His amusement had faded throughout the telling. “This is a painting of my own greed,” he confessed. “I had wanted more.”

     The silence that followed his reveal was not surprising. Harry was as unconcerned by it as he always was as he continued painting his family member’s boogers.

    “Tea is acceptable.”

    Harry grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you once again for reading to the end of the chapter. I'd love to hear from you what you think. The story will begin to unfold now that Harry and Sebastian have progressed to maybe-friends. From here, things will become more interesting.
> 
> I hope no one minds the addition I added to Harry's fourth-year Christmas present. I liked the idea of shocking Sebastian. ;)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry has invited Sebastian over for tea, but the beginning of their friendship isn't going to come easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does anyone know how to format automatic new-paragraph first-line indents? I don't want to keep tapping out space-space-space-space every time I hit the enter button. I know other stories don't have the indent, just a straight left margin all the way down, but I greatly prefer it for my own work.

# Chapter Three

 

    While they worked out the particulars Harry admitted that he was uncomfortable with the idea of having tea in a shop — mentioning his failed date at Madam Puddifoots in _very_ non-specific terms — and he invited his maybe-friend over to his flat. Sebastian was clearly uncomfortable with the idea of visiting his home, but finally conceded, admitting: “I have never been inside a Muggle flat before.” Before he left, he collected his green painting from the week before which was dry enough for transfer. As always, Harry Vanished his straight off the easel.

    He met with Matilda the morning Sebastian was scheduled to come over, and she agreed that they should take it easy when he mentioned being nervous about starting their first meetup outside art therapy already fragile and triggered. Instead, she walked him through a guided meditation using the fumes of a calming potion brewing in the corner and various mood charms to help “give him positive mental resources.” Before he left she reminded him that it would not be good for his progress if he needed to take it easy _every_ week, and he promised if they agreed to meet again it would be on a different day. She reminded him of the option to reschedule their meetings as well, but he did not feel comfortable changing up their routine yet.

    “Harry? Are you home?” Frowning, he hurried into his living room towards his floo, where Hermione’s head rested comfortably amongst the green flames.

    “Is everything okay?” he asked when she’d caught sight of him.

    “Of course, it is,” she responded, and Harry instantly regretted his anxious question when he saw the deep concern filling her face in response. Harry _hated_ that look. _Breathe, one, two, three, four. She’s concerned because she loves you, three, four._ “Ron and I were putting our schedule together for next week and were hoping you might come by for dinner.”

    “Sure,” he replied, relaxing when she didn’t follow her concerned look up with:  _‘How are you doing, Harry?’, ‘Still no job, yet, Harry?’,_ or _‘When was the last time you spoke to Ginny, Harry?'_  “What day did you have free?

    “It’s pretty easy for us this week, actually. We have Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday free. I know you don’t like meeting Wednesdays and you have your class on Fridays.”

    A knock sounded at the door at the same time the kettle started it’s slow wind up.

    “I’ve got to go, Hermione, I’ve got a new friend coming over for the first time and I don’t want to fuck this up. Sunday good?”

    “A new _friend_?” Something close to alarm flashed across her face, though Harry couldn’t fathom why. “Oh, okay, Harry… talk to you Sunday! Come over whenever! Bye!”

    “Bye!”

    A second knock rang out, distinctly louder and more impatient sounding than the first while Harry was scurrying away from the fireplace. Flinging the door open, he crowed out a welcome while hastily fleeing to the kitchen to retrieve the kettle which was now singing a pleasant though still quite shrill note throughout the unit.

    “You are not wearing your glamour,” Sebastian noted as he shut the door calmly and left the entry to join Harry.

    “What’s the point? You’ll just see who I really am anyway,” Harry said, smirking slightly back at him.

    “Indeed.”

    Harry began pouring out the two cups of tea, setting the new, white sugar bowl to the side and gestured for Sebastian to help himself while he jiggled the kettle, simply to enjoy the gasping song it made as the tea inside splashed against the hot sides.

    “I do not believe you have ever been so cheerful in my presence. I am unfamiliar with tea brewed in milk. How much sugar is customary?” Between the door and arriving at Harry’s side, he’d removed his glasses. Harry had never seen him without them, and didn’t know how to feel about his usual glamour being the only reason the man wore them at all.

    “I told my Mind Healer I wanted to take it easy today and she used calming fumes and cheering charms on me,” he responded first, enjoying the way the other man raised an eyebrow at the news. “It is usually been served to me sweet, but when I looked it up online it said it was normally served without sugar. I use two, but if I have a cup before bed I only put one.”

    Sebastian lifted the cup to his lips, taking a testing sip before gifting the liquid a small smile — so rare, from the stoic man — and choosing to place a single cube in his cup. He took the spoon Harry offered him with a nod, and stirred the new mixture as it dissolved,

    “It’s surprising to me that you would agree to schedule our meeting the same day as a session. I remember…” He trailed off, but that was okay. Harry knew.

    “I’m usually a bit of a mess for two days after a bad session,” he agreed easily. Sebastian stopped divining his future in his cloudy cup for just long enough to meet his eyes before snapping his gaze back down. “Unfortunately, one of my most annoying symptoms has been forgetfulness, and when we were scheduling all I was thinking about was time available and I didn’t think about the _quality_ of the time.”

   “I have to admit when you mentioned _calming fumes and cheering charms_ I did not have a very good impression of your Healer. Does she have an estimate for your recovery?”

   “Unfortunately, no. Would you like to sit? I bought a snack sampler, I didn’t know what kinds of things you’d like. About my recovery… from our sessions with a Pensieve she thinks my symptoms first started presenting in the very first memories I’ve been able to offer her. She thinks my recovery will take a long time because there’s so much to untangle.”

   Sebastian was still gazing into his cup. Harry knew the first time they met socially might be awkward but _he_ was at least _trying_ to be an open book, here.

    “Then it is all the more important that you do not skip out on further sessions,” he said finally. Harry bristled a bit at the faint hint of admonishment in his tone. _Breathe, one, two, three, four._

    The other man looked up, eyebrows slightly raised as he realized what Harry was doing. Harry sighed. “Is there something I can do to help you feel more comfortable here?”

    The other man visibly winced. “My discomfort is my own making. I have been… a little taken aback by how forthright you have been with me, on the whole.”

    “You mean despite how I’m usually covered head-to-toe in layers of glamour?” Harry teased gently. The sideways quirk to the other man’s mouth was reward enough.

    “I have… not been as forthright, myself.” Harry frowned, wondering when Sebastian had even spoken enough words to lie, when the other man continued. “After the war I swore I would never return. I had every intention of washing myself clean of everything the Ministry of Magic had ever touched and living out the remaining two-thirds or more of my life in relative solitude. With Muggles, even. However, it seems… that I have willfully returned, at least once a week, after our mutual acquaintance Dean Thomas hired me to provide the canvas prep he needed.”

    “ _You’re_ the creator of the potion that helps the image appear!” Harry gasped, finally understanding that the brilliant artist he had been sitting next to was the one whom _Dean_ had said gave _him_ the idea for the Art Therapy sessions.

    “Just so,” the man said without any of the slight twitches Harry had come to associate with him smiling. “I had intended on just sitting in for a few weeks, to make sure the canvas worked adequately, and I’m not sure when it was I decided to stay, instead.”

     The man paused, and Harry let him. He could taste by the somber atmosphere that Sebastian was working through something hard to say.

     “Before returning, I entered a consensual agreement with a… somewhat trustworthy Muggle to use his appearance while I am here.” His gaze returned to Harry’s and held firm against his younger companion’s frown. “I am using Polyjuice to hide my appearance and I have no intention--whilst the agreement stands--to cease, and reveal myself. Ever.”

    Harry’s mind flickered — Moody who was Crouch, Hermione, furred like a cat-- _breathe, two, three, four,_ and through his difficulty Sebastian kept his gaze.

    “If you can accept that, and accept that I will never, _ever_ step back into the identity of the man I was when I left here, and that while in your presence I will sip from a flask every two hours and forty-five minutes like clockwork from now until I die, then perhaps… we can try to be friends.”

    Harry sat back in his chair wearily. He brought a hand — shaking again, stupid thing--to his forehead as he slowly replayed the revelation and Sebastian’s conditions over. When he could not bear the other wizard’s gaze another moment he slid the hand down like a shutter over his eyes and groaned his dismay.

    “I feel it is not too dissimilar to your glamour.”

    “— That you could see through the first day I used them.”

    “...True.”

    “I am not opposed to the idea of reinventing yourself after the war. I get that. I am fighting a lifetime’s amount of _other_ triggers, here, Sebastian.”

    “Should I manhandle you again?”

    Despite the seriousness of the conversation, despite the fear and the adrenaline urging him to fight his way out of this impasse, Harry found himself guffawing at the softly delivered line. The serious, deep drawl of his voice made the joke fall so perfectly. Harry began to laugh outright. He didn’t know if his companion had been a Death Eater. Harry’s chest began to burn with panic, and Sebastian gently removed his hand from his eyes.

    “Breathe, two, three, four. Look at me, two, three, four. I probably should have mentioned that back then, in the war, I fought for the brightest light I knew before I laid this news at your feet. Keep breathing, you’re not solid yet. In the war, I never acted against _you_ , and have no wish to start now. Though, to be honest, the impression I had for you was the archetypal pureblood rich boy until Hogwarts fell and you started going it alone.”

     “Wasn’t alone,” he croaked. He was coming down, but getting off the count to respond ratcheted up his fear response again.

    “Do you have a calming draught?” Sebastian asked, appearing much more serene than Harry felt.

    “I don’t like to take them. I need to work through it.”

    “And you feel what you feel for a reason.” Despite being the cause of Harry’s breakdown, Sebastian felt no shame in nodding in approval that he was going to stay feeling awful on purpose. Bastard.

    But he was still holding his hand, keeping his gaze without judgment, and watching him breathe through it.

    “Pureblood rich boy?” he asked when he had control of himself. With a final squeeze, the older man let go of his hand and gathered his cup within his rather wide fingers.

    The man shrugged, glancing away for the first time since he’d come clean. “The Boy Who Lived. Potter family heir. Whichever family took you in would have lavished high praise on you. Every time you would have walked down Diagon Alley as a sprog you would have had every stranger in your radius gleeful to give you sweets and tickle your toddler belly. Even —” Sebastian himself cut off when Harry made exaggerated gagging noises. “Rude.”

    “Do people actually think like that?” he exclaimed, ignoring the complaint. “Did people actually take time out of their day to imagine toddler me dressed in frills and sucking on golden lollipops?” Sebastian raised his eyebrow high at the vastly different image Harry was presenting, but seemed to choose not to spar with him.

    “Will you explain what you meant when you said you had wanted something different from your relatives for Christmas? Surely that awful thing was not the only present they had given you.”

    “It was. And I don’t know exactly what I wanted… it wasn’t an object I needed. I was a fourteen year old whose only living family had hated him from birth. I needed…” He couldn’t finish.

    “Love,” Sebastian supplied, sneering the same way he had when Harry had canceled the privacy spell on his Snape portrait. He was obviously not too fond of the emotion.

    “Just so,” Harry said, smiling weakly when the man realized he was quoting his own phrase from earlier.

    The first uncomfortable silence Harry could remember stretched between them then.

 

 

    On Friday, Sebastian chose not to work on the portrait he’d started for “greed.” Instead, when Dean had announced the theme: “loss,” the older man’s wand arm had snapped forward, raising privacy shields around his easel before Harry had even comprehended what Dean had said. For his part, Harry began his breathing exercises and contemplated which of the many losses he would be willing to work on that day.

    He had not given Sebastian a clear answer about whether he was able to handle the man’s Polyjuice use. But on Wednesday, even with that weight between them, after talking about Harry’s ‘greed’ painting they had moved onto passionately discussing orphanages and the lack of legal protection for abused magical children. That conversation track had lasted them long enough that Sebastian need to drink from his flask for them to continue. Harry at one point mentioned he hadn’t seen his own Godson in months, and Sebastian had gently encouraged him to bring it up with his mind healer.

    Back to the issue at hand, however… the privacy shield between them now was certainly a ‘loss.’ Harry could tell from the other man’s movements that he was already painting. Sebastian never used the spell to fix an image to the canvas, which Harry found especially interesting now that he knew _he was the one who’d created it!_ But Harry wasn’t about to paint the glassy grey shield between them just to make a point. The things that immediately jumped to his mind, the Headmaster falling, Sirius, Lupin, Tonks, Hedwig, Dobby, Colin, Fred _, breathe, one, two, three, four,_ felt too big, too heavy right now, with the burden he was already carrying. Harry wanted to paint something that caused Sebastian as much consternation as the Dursley’s bogies, but that didn't feel respectful at the moment either.

    In the end, he raised the shield, cast the charm and chose the moment at the end of third year when he'd seen his stag Patronus fight off the Dementors and save him. He was mentally unsteady, and too many dead or dying bodies flickered across the canvas before he stabilized the image with the stag glowing at the bottom middle and a cloud of Dementors fleeing above. When he cancelled the privacy shield he glanced to his neighbor to see he was still behind his own. Harry sighed, and set up his station.

    “You framed it well.” Harry _tried_ not to jerk to attention when Sebastian's voice unexpectedly spoke behind him, but the entirety of his body flexed before the message was received. “Steady.”

    “Sorry, was trying to remember what you said about mixing different blacks and didn't expect you to come over,” Harry explained. _Breathe, two, three, four._

    “It's fine.” But his voice was harder than when he had dealt with Harry's anxiety previously, and he was swiftly reminded that there was an unanswered ultimatum still hanging between them. He was frowning as he regarded Harry's memory, and the younger man realized that he'd managed to surprise the artist like he'd previously wished.

“It makes a nice composition,” Sebastian remarked finally, “but the Patronus is triumphant over death, so I do not see the message of ‘loss.’”

    From his tone Harry could tell he was speaking solely about the visual themes in the painting, and didn't realize how accurate he was when describing the contents. “I _was_ seconds away from dying in this moment,” he said, and Sebastian’s gaze snapped to his. There was an unreadable emotion there, though Harry thought it edged towards either anger or disbelief.

    “Hundreds of them, roaming around innocent children for months on end with not being properly fed. My Patronus wasn’t working, and one started to Kiss me when they were driven off by the gleaming ghost of my dead father’s Animagus form.” His lips quirked up, but not in a smile but a grimace of pain as Snape’s teenage form, upside down and in pain flashed to the forefront of his mind. “But, it was not my father. It was me, having used a time-turner to rescue myself. With how things were with my relatives... it was especially painful for it not to have been him, saving me from that life. And later still, I found out that my father had sexually assaulted someone. _That_ is a realization that has only gotten worse with time as I understand it better. This one moment,” he said, sweeping a hand towards the image, “represents many different moments of loss.”

    Sebastian’s head had reared back in shock the moment ‘sexually assaulted’ had escaped his lips, but he’d swiftly regained control of himself. Harry was not surprised by the reaction, with a government that did not criminalize the use of love potions, the populace had no chance of understanding how important consent was. Harry wouldn’t have understood had it not been for a few strange encounters between him and Ginny where he’d had to seriously sit her down and discuss certain acts that he was just not comfortable with, and _no_ he would not take a potion to get through it. _Breathe, two, three, four._

    “The loss of innocence then,” the older man responded slowly, looking quite intently into his eyes.

    Harry found himself fidgeting, unable to explain the sudden swoop in his stomach before he softly corrected, “No one is going to save me but myself.”

    Sebastian’s lips pressed together in apparent disapproval, and Harry found himself nervously backtracking. “Of course that’s just the feeling I had at those times. I didn’t have all the information until much later… many people were consistently working behind the scenes to help keep me alive.”

    The older man nodded, grimaced again at the painting, and lifted his hand to squeeze Harry’s shoulder in a way that reminded him of the grounding exercises Matilda had done with him in an early session. Sebastian’s heavy touch sent a similar wave of connection through him. The man returned behind his privacy shield silently, and Harry went back to his work as well.

    When Dean called the session to a close, Sebastian Vanished his painting without having ever lifted the privacy shields. He wanted to ask about it, but when the artist caught his curious eye and shook his head, he tilted his head in acknowledgement, neither of them having had to say a word to understand the exchange.

    Harry caught Sebastian’s elbow after he’d retrieved the now-dry, indistinct portrait he’d been working on the previous week from the racks in the back room. “I’m going to work on it at home,” the older man explained for some reason. Harry wanted to ask where _home_ was, but refrained, feeling that he needed to get better at accepting his companion’s boundaries, extreme though they were.

    “Would you like to join me again for tea on Monday?” he asked instead. “My afternoon is free.”

    Sebastian’s answering smile was surprised and bright, and it stayed with him for days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you surprised Sebastian confessed?
> 
> It is a pet peeve of mine when authors force characters to not share information that is necessary, helpful, and sometimes, utterly redonkulous *not* to share. The unrealistic hoops some authors have their characters jump through! (I'm looking at you, Kindle Unlimited writers, lol) When I had the idea of this story, I knew I wanted Sebastian to be upfront with his tenuous position and absolutely clear with his desires from the first. Spending so much time one-on-one with another wizard is a huge risk for him. He doesn't need a rash, foolhardy Gryffindor catching sight of something odd, and subsequently investigating every facet of his protected life until his fragile peace is exposed in some undoubtedly explosive fashion.
> 
> Anyway, enough Gryffindor bashing; I have exciting news! I have completed NINETEEN chapters for this story so far. This is the most I have ever written in such a small span of time (less than two weeks, now.) It was odd to come back and edit chapter three for posting today, because the part I'm writing now is nearly to the climax of the story (though there will be a few more chapters after that to bring you down gently.) It has me feeling so nostalgic, which is weird because it's only been a few days...


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry experiences a major setback... but Sebastian comes to visit him anyway.

# Chapter Four

 

    Harry started Sunday feeling like he was experiencing a major winning streak. He had showered every day that week, using every self care product Matilda had recommend he use. His dishes were cleaned after every meal, and the counters wiped down too. He hadn’t felt all that well _every_ day, especially since his tea with Sebastian had thrown him for such a loop, but since he’d decided to work through it and invited him over again Harry had been riding an unexpected emotional high.

    That morning found Harry at Diagon Alley, browsing Global Delights for interesting treats to serve the next day. The owner had stocked green cardamom upon his request, and Harry determinedly made plans to mix his own masala chai blend the next morning as well.

    Before he left, he grabbed a bottle from the non-alcoholic refreshments section to bring with him to dinner. He couldn't read the language, but it had a picture of an orange on the label so he figured it would be a safe taste, at least. He normally didn't bring anything to their place, but he was inspired to take the same care of Ron and Hermione as he did while planning Sebastian's visit.

    “Hello!” he called later, after he'd Apparated into their front hall.

    “Hey Harry, I'm in the kitchen,” called Ron.

    “Office, be right out,” called Hermione. She was probably working on something she’d brought home from the Ministry.

    Harry placed the bottle in the counter beside his friend and clasped his forearm in greeting. Ron was juggling his attention between two saucepans simmering in the stove, but spared a moment to turn the bottle over in his hands.

    “This is weird,” he remarked, laughing.

    “It's non-alcoholic. Though, beyond that I don't know anything about it. We'll be in for a surprise, I think.”

    “'Bout time you contributed, instead of just stealing all my food,” Ron teased.

    “Oi!”

    “You know I'm joking.”

    Ron's comment was light, and Harry went to peer out the kitchen window at his and Hermione's garden when Ron went back to stirring and tasting the food.

    “How was your date?” Ron asked suddenly, and Harry paused, noticing the unexpectedly tense tone. For months Ron had been after him to get back with Ginny but for his own part he’d been pretty clear they were done. Ron had _tried_ to ask the ‘date’ question lightly, but was obviously feeling anything but casual below the surface.

    “It wasn't a date,” he refuted, frowning. “I'm not ready for that yet.” His friend's shoulder's visually relaxed as he checked on whatever he had going in the oven. “Oh, that's brilliant, mate. So, who was it then?”

    “An artist I sit next to at Dean's art therapy program. Sebastian."

    Ron, somehow, looked even more relieved. “I remember him. You should have told Hermione it was a _guy,_ mate. You should have seen her, right after work, pacing in circles telling me she'd flooed you at lunch and that you had a ‘new friend you _didn't want to fuck it up_ with.’ Thought I was going to have to kip over for one of your unused calming draughts.”

    “Well, I’m glad you didn’t, because we had a fairly deep discussion until he left at dinner time,” Harry said dryly.

    Ron turned the heat off on the stove and shifted the pots to cool burners, chewing his lip. “You invited a guy over and just ‘ _deep talked’_ all the way from lunch until dinner?”

    Harry couldn’t decide whether to frown or raise his eyebrows, completely bewildered by his friend’s worried whisper. “Yeah?”

    “Did you make sure first that he’s not, you know, _gay?_ That’s not a usual hang-out, mate!”

    Harry was almost afraid to tell the truth; Ron was acting that bizarrely. “He is gay. Or, at least, he mentioned how men have approached him in the past once they learn of ‘his orientation.’ But I told him I wasn’t gay, and he seemed actually _more_ willing to be my friend after that. That’s all we’re going for right now. Friendship.”

    But Ron was looking more horrified, not less. “‘For right _now_?’ ‘He _is_ gay?’ Harry, you need to be more careful than this. I mean,” he huffed out a few breaths, his next thought was so ridiculous that it almost brought him to laughter. “We don’t hang out with _Dean_ alone, do we? Of _course_ not. Are there even  _more_ gay people in that class?”

    Harry found himself unable to respond. Sexuality was not a subject they’d ever discussed before. He hadn’t even known that Dean might be gay, the way Ron was insinuating. He hadn’t thought it at all, and if he had, he would have never guessed it would be this big of a problem.

    “You’re saying that I can’t be friends with a gay wizard? Is this why Seamus and Dean are no longer friends?” Harry’s voice rose on the end with incredulity. He’d always _wondered_ what had happened between the best friends and roommates who suddenly separated their lives completely.

    “You can still be friends!” Ron said encouragingly. Part of Harry relaxed; maybe Ron wasn’t _completely_ barmy. “Just don’t ever get in a position where you’re alone with them.” Nope, still totally off his rocker. “And _no_ _more_ having dates with _gay wizards!”_

    “Something you want to _tell me,_ Harry?”

    There, standing in the living room, dressed up like she was attending a celebration and holding onto Hermione’s arm for support, was Ginny Weasley.

 

 

    “I can’t believe they’d _do_ this to me!” Harry steamed the next day, safely able to vent his rage with the Magic Limiter clasped around his wrist.

    “Of course, you'd feel that way.” Matilda responded compassionately. He’d sent her a Patronus message as soon as his magic had stopped destroying things, and she’d agreed to meet with him for an emergency session the next morning. “You trust them, and they did something that broke that trust. Not only that, but they treated you as if you needed your decisions made _for_ you, putting themselves at a higher status than you in your relationship.” The healer used her wand to show three stick figures standing above a fourth, looking down at him. “You are trying to heal and work on your trauma, and in ambushing you and forcing you to deal with something —  _someone — you_ have clearly stated you do not want to deal with right now, they have traumatized you, _again._ Not only that, but your new friendship which is for you a sign of moving on and going forward was belittled, your friend Sebastian frankly _dehumanized_ by their homophobia.”

    “Yeah,” he said weakly. His ire was swiftly deflated by the way she’d completely understood his upset, and been able to articulate it so clearly while he himself was babbling in anger. Part of him wanted to mention that Hermione had argued against the Weasley siblings when it came to their homophobia, but she’d done considerable damage on her own of insisting he move into Ginny’s new apartment because she thought it would be ‘good for his recovery.’

    “The question is how do you want to handle it from here? When you are triggered like this you are in a highly aroused state: your options are fight, flight, or freeze. How do you want to proceed?”

    “They are my friends. We’ve been through much worse than this together. This won’t break us. I’m just really angry and hurt and don’t want to talk about it with them right now.”

    “Okay, so not fight, then.” She held up three fingers, then put one down to indicate there were two choices left. “You can flee, if you want, avoid all contact with Ron and Hermione until you feel like you can handle a different option, or you can freeze. Tell them you don’t want to discuss it and continue on with your relationship as if it didn’t happen.”

    Harry frowned. “That doesn’t seem healthy.”

    “No. That way nothing is resolved, but it _is_ an option for you, Harry. You need to choose the one that you feel most comfortable with.”

    “Fight sounds like it’s the right thing to do, but I don’t have the energy for it right now. I don’t want to go through the the exhausting, long conversation we’d need to have to fix this right now. I don’t want to pretend everything is fine, either. I can’t.”

    “So flee, then,” Matilda said gently. “Make yourself sit down and send them a letter telling them you need space to work through this. You don’t owe them anything in this situation. When you’re ready, you can decide when to let them back into your life. Until then —” She indicated the squat pensieve between them, and he groaned.

    “The memory is as fresh as it’s ever going to be. Let’s make sure this one doesn’t come back to bite you.”

 

 

    Sebastian’s knock seemed light and slightly hesitant later that day. Harry shuffled to the door and leaned on it to greet the wizard.

    “Hi,” he said.

    “I got your Patronus.” Sebastian searched his eyes carefully.

    “You decided to come anyway.” The other man nodded, lips thinning with concern.

    “I said I would.” The return message had appeared by owl after his healing session was finished. His handwriting had been as neat and even as an architect’s. “You appear…”

    “I know.” The man glanced behind Harry and noticed the broken photos and other shattered glass in the hall and living area beyond.

    “You are not okay.”

    “No.” Firm. Good. He was not going to break down again.

    Sebastian did not ask ‘do you want to talk about it?’ like Hermione would have, had she been an outsider in this situation. Instead he quietly followed Harry to the kitchen, adding the one sugar to his tea again, before silently vanishing the broken lightbulb shards on the table, sitting across from him, and simply watching, stirring his tea until the cube was no more.

    Harry liked that he did not clank the spoon on the rim after he was done. He simply rested the damp spoon on his napkin and let it be. Ginny had chipped three of their cups in the two years they lived together. His eyes were the part of him that burned, this time.

    A hand silently rested on his, and he let it, no matter what Ron and Ginny had to say about letting a gay man into his home. He met Sebastian’s gaze and the man inhaled at whatever emotion he’d read in Harry’s eyes.

    “You did not explain in your Patronus, but I gathered it was sadness, not illness that made you offer for me not to come.”

    “Mm,” Harry agreed, bringing his cup to his mouth for a sip. Sebastian withdrew his arm as Harry’s hand casually lifted away from his.

    “I confess to still having a certain amount of unease in regards to Patronus messages,” the older man commented. “They were used often in the war for emergencies.”

    Harry winced. “Ginny took the owl when I kicked her out a few months ago,” he whispered. He’d just taken a sip but his voice still came out hoarse. “I haven't gotten around to getting a new one.”

    “It might be a good idea… if we are to continue our acquaintance.” Harry felt some surprise. Sebastian had indicated that he didn’t suffer from PTSD anymore, but that grudging admission right there sounded as if he actually _was_ still affected.

    “I am sorry. I didn’t realize the effect it would have on you.” Harry tried not to wince. Matilda had taught him that apology, and he'd just used it word-for-word. But he meant it earnestly enough anyway, and Sebastian seemed mollified by it. “I haven’t wanted to get a new owl since my Hedwig died when the war had just started really kicking off,” he admitted. “We survived so much together. But perhaps it is time.” He took a deep breath.

    “Every once in a while... I stumble upon things like this, things I avoid until it causes problems for others. I know I need an owl, but I don’t know how I can bring myself to take one step into that store.”

    “Maybe you should go with a trusted ally.”

    “Would you go with me? I would have ordinarily asked Ron — Ron Weasley, that is — but…” Harry’s eyes drifted over Sebastian's shoulder to the doorway behind which, both men knew, his living room was absolutely covered in glass.

    Sebastian leant back a fraction, fluttering his fingertips silently against the table as he formulated his response. “I would be honored. However, I do not think it would be wise for me to come if you feel you cannot handle this.” From the pocket of his robe, he took out his flask of Polyjuice, and set it gently on the table next to his mug.

    “Pulling no punches,” Harry said, a small grin surviving for one brief moment before fading.

    Sebastian shrugged, uncomfortable. “Putting myself out there.”

    And wouldn't Ron have something to say about the bald intimacy involved in that statement. But Harry had already spent hours thinking over their past interactions, their possible friendship, and the risks involved and had already made a decision before their art therapy class.

    “I made my decision when I asked you to tea last Friday,” he said lightly.

    Sebastian’s eyes were glowing bright, glittering against his tanned face. “I thought you had.”

    “I have my own concerns, you know,” Harry said, eyes straying to the room behind his companion again. “Can you handle someone so early into recovery like me as a friend? I've only been going six months now. If I can handle the hesitations and the non-answers and the burning curiosity as you pick and choose what I’m allowed to know, can you handle how… _exhausting_ it will be to be my friend? Every time we meet I may need some kind of support or care to get through a trigger. Can you put up with that?”

    To his credit, he didn’t answer quickly. He fully considered Harry’s words. As someone who had undergone some kind of recovery himself, he should understand the depths of what Harry was asking.

    “If it is similar to what I’ve seen so far, I believe I can handle it,” Sebastian responded carefully. “There are limits to what any wizard can deal with, though. Do you shatter this much glass often?”

    “This was the result of a major breach of trust,” Harry replied, scrubbing his face with his hands. “I haven’t had this bad a reaction since —”

    The image flashed across his mind, walking in and finding Ginny and the other wizard. His eyes met Sebastian’s and the man snatched up his hand. “ _Breathe,_ two, three, four,” the older man urged.

    With his thumb stroking the back of Harry’s hand and voice calmly walking Harry back down from the edge, the rush of emotion faded rather quickly. When he felt the worst was over, Harry collapsed back into his seat with a heavy release of air. After one last squeeze, his companion returned to his tea without comment.

    “That’s the third time you’ve done that for me this week,” Harry said, wrapping his own shaking hands around his mug. He noted that his hands had been shaking rather often recently — it was odd because it was not a symptom he’d had before, even when things had been _really_ bad. There had been many times where he’d been so full of emotion he’d thought it was weird they _weren’t_ shaking, and now when he had more control over his mind they suddenly decided to get with the program.

    “I don’t mind,” the other man replied simply. He blew on the steam and seemed to savor his next sip.

    Harry felt a growing lump choke off his next swallow. “Still, I am grateful. You know, there _will_ be times when the secrets get to be too much,” he confessed. “I’m pants at divination but it’s beyond easy to see that. Both of us are starting this relationship throwing red flags at each other like we’re referees at a football match. We’ll need-- _I’ll_ need to feel like I can tell you that I’m struggling without fear you’ll lash out.”

    Sebastian considered his words again. “That one might be more difficult,” he admitted. “I have healed a lot with the Muggles over the last three years, but I am still a prideful man. I will feel as though you are disrespecting my wishes, or that I, as I currently am, am not enough.”

    The older man studiously avoided meeting his eyes after the surprisingly personal reveal.

    “Healer Matilda calls disrespect a “catch-all” word,” Harry said slowly. “In this case, I do not understand exactly what _you_ mean. Do you mean that it might feel as though I would be… crossing the — er, established boundaries you need in order to feel secure?” Harry had to dig deep into his bag of Matilda's quotes to get the phrase out properly.

    “That is… fairly accurate, yes." He paused before continuing. "When I received help for my troubles, I was not taught how to communicate like this. I have studied Muggle psychology books from the moment I left England, but I did not expect to need the sections on interpersonal relationships. Maybe I should start reading again.”

    “So, then, that means… _I_ can respect your secrets, can you handle me?” Harry asked, gripping his mug tightly.

    “Yes.”

    Harry slumped a bit, feeling one knot of tension that had been riding him since Sebastian had revealed his disguise unravel. There were still other fears hounding him, but this one at least had abated. While the man had taken a moment for his other questions, this one he answered without delay, with no indecision polluting the word.

    “I liked the ‘red flags’ reference. Very Muggle of you.”

    “Sports _and_ mind healing. I hit two points,” Harry said, grinning.

    “Yes, yes, congratulations,” Sebastian replied wryly. “Now. Would you like to talk to me about what happened yesterday?”

    “Depends on how well you’ll handle hearing about my homophobic best friend and ex-girlfriend,” Harry muttered into his tea.

    “Speaking of communication, mumbling is a pet-peeve of mine.”

    “Sorry.”

    “It’s fine, but you should know going forward. Now, am I to believe that you destroyed your own home because your friends were homophobic about… what? Me? I don’t know whether to be upset you told them or grateful for your apparent heroic defense.”

    “No… that was... something else. I did tell them, but only because I honestly didn’t realize it would be a problem, I swear. Just like mentioning your brown hair and blue eyes — er, or whatever you have usually.”

    Sebastian’s face twitched at his gaffe, but leaned forward seriously. “Harry you have to know that for the duration of our friendship, however long that ends up being, I will not want you to share my intimate details with your friends. I will not want to even _meet_ them, ever. I _am not_ reentering the wizarding world beyond what I already do anonymously, _ever._ No matter how close we become.”

    Harry broke their stalemate with light laughter. “I know it's another red flag, but I just feel flattered. You are taking these _‘will never do’_ risks for me.”

    He didn’t reply, and Harry wished for some affirmation that it was true. But the older man met his gaze unflinchingly, so Harry let himself relive the calm, firm, ‘yes’ he had been given earlier. It was enough.

    “So, er, right. I won’t divulge like that again. I _do_ understand, I guess I didn’t think — well, I already said that —”

    “Harry,” the other man admonished softly. “It’s fine. We will go onwards from here. Why don’t you tell me the circumstances in which you told him? Save me from feeling that I was gossiped about, please.”

    “Oh, _no…_ nothing like that. It came out not two minutes after I arrived, actually. And… the other event not too long after. You see, when I answered the door late last Wednesday, it was because my friend Hermione had asked me over for dinner. You knocked, we quickly made plans, and I ran to let you in.” Sebastian nodded, following, but Harry could tell he was guarded.

    “What I didn’t know was when I told Hermione that I had a new friend over and I, er… ‘didn’t want to fuck it up,’ she would assume I was having a _girl_ over for a _date_.”

    The other man’s eyebrows rose cautiously. “Indeed?”

    “Yes, _indeed,_ ” Harry teased. Sebastian smiled, but covered it quickly with his hand and cleared his throat.

    “Go on, you were working on appeasing me,” he prodded instead.

    Harry felt an unexpected heat crawl over his neck and cheeks, but continued anyway. “When I told him I was just having a friend, a _male_ friend over, he acted _very_ odd. He said that it was weird to just have another guy over for tea and he seemed really worried if I knew whether or not you were gay.” Sebastian was nodding now, unguarded once more as if he’d realized where this was going and it was entirely expected.

    “I didn’t know he might have a problem with it,” Harry said, leaning forward and widening his eyes so Sebastian could see his sincerity. “We don’t _talk_ about stuff like that. And like I said… I’ve never even _thought_ about it. So I didn’t really understand what the problem was when I said, well, you _are_ gay, or at least that you’d told me you’d been ‘approached’ because of ‘your orientation.’” He used finger quotes to show that he was directly quoting from the source across from him, and the man quirked his lips sideways in acknowledgment.

    “But Ron really freaked out. I gathered from the rest of the time before I left that he and Ginny thought I was putting myself at risk of being molested, which, I have never _once_ been worried about, by the way.”

    “Well, I certainly am glad,” Sebastian began. “It is not an uncommon assumption among pureblood families, and their compatriots. Two wizards cannot produce magical young. Such a relationship is scary for those who fear magic is one stiff breeze from dying out, or of being overrun with Muggles.”

    “That makes sense,” Harry said grudgingly. He didn’t want to lend any credence to the thoughts at all. “Though the Weasleys typically don’t subscribe to the usual pureblood… ideologies. I guess homosexuality is rather different than blood purity, though.”

    “I am relieved you haven’t felt… unsafe with me thus far. Even if you _had_ entertained thoughts about men previous to meeting me, all I would be able to offer you is my friendship. There’s just no way to sustain a relationship like that when I have to take this every three hours.” He tapped the flask which had not moved during their talk. “No overnight stays, when falling asleep or losing myself in another person would mean my disguise falls and my fresh start is obliterated.”

    “Obliterated, nice word,” Harry said grinning slightly. “Just… to put to bed a _lot_ of worries, if you were to walk into Diagon Alley right now and let that disguise drop, would you be put in Azkaban for your part in the war?”

    “No.” Clear, concise. Another knot untangled. Then, Sebastian laughed a little and said it again, more joyously. “ _No.”_

    Harry found himself smiling back at the other man, as they both reacted to the relief knowing:  _Sebastian was innocent._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy post-Thanksgiving shopping season! ;)
> 
> Despite Harry's rough start in this chapter, it seems like he and Sebastian are breaking down a few important walls anyway. :)
> 
> I am almost done writing the whole story; I am up to chapter 24 now. I have two other story ideas, a no-horcrux HP/DM seventh-year AU and a short HP/Charlie that both might get made, but only after I pen the last of this one.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Sebastian continue chatting over tea, and go together to get Harry's new owl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work is now COMPLETE!! There are a total of 25 chapters, and I will keep posting them every few days until the last one is out. I can't tell you how much this means to me, and how weird it feels because I have NEVER finished a story ever in my entire life despite writing thousands of pages of various unfinished junk. It seems odd that I should be disconnecting myself from the story right now... Shouldn't there be so much more struggling to get it out until I'm still writing on my deathbed at 80+ years old? But it's all done the story is wrapped up--there's nothing more. I hope you enjoy everything <3

# Chapter Five

 

    “So, how did your ex come into the picture?” Sebastian asked, appearing as relaxed as Harry had ever seen him after their small celebration. “I had the feeling you were avoiding her.” He waved a hand behind him where the potions crate of Ginny’s things still lurked, gathering dust four months after he’d finally gotten her to move out.

    “I was,” Harry frowned. “Let me tell the next part of the Ron conversation because she… just _appeared_ there, and reacted badly to it.”

    Sebastian winced. “Oh. I shall endeavor to contain myself.” He made a joke, but the wording was formal and his back straightened once more as he accepted his freshened mug from Harry, returning from the stove. Harry sighed, and blew on his tea before noticing his companion doing the same.

    “I didn’t stir it,” he warned. “Sorry. I just remembered you had your spoon still.”

    Sebastian froze, and lowered the cup again. “Right.”

    Harry smiled. “I left off… after I told him you were in fact gay, or whatever, I think.”

    Sebastian cleared his throat, and Harry was amazed to see that his cheeks had taken on a reddish tint. “I _am_ gay. You keep deferring to what I said last Friday, but I can clearly tell you now that I am.”

    “So you never fancied a girl, ever?” Harry queried curiously.

    “There was one,” he admitted, though it seemed quite difficult for him to say. “At the time she was the only person in the entire world who loved me — as a friend, mind — without needing something in return. But what I felt for her was purely romantic, not sexual. It would have never lasted, so I didn’t pursue it, and she fell for and married someone else.”

    “I’m sorry.” Though Harry’s sentiment rang earnestly between them, he couldn’t help but frown. “How can you be interested in someone romantically and _not_ sexually? Aren’t they linked?”

    “Usually. In this case I had the desire to hold her close forever and keep her safe, but doing those things never left me with the urge to touch, taste, explore… I have since experienced those urges and it wouldn’t have been a good relationship for her, not to have them,” Sebastian admitted. “I held onto her loss for perhaps far longer than I should have. Now, we weren't focusing on _my_ deepest pain, were we? I rather think we were opening up yours.”

    Harry pouted. “Sorry for asking so many questions. But even if I get distracted I’ve liked talking with you each time.”

    “Hm, it is enjoyable,” the other man agreed.

    “Right. Again, I told him you were a guy, he freaked out we had been alone that long, I told him that you _are_ gay, actually, and then I said that I had told you I was straight and —”

    “Did you?”

    “Did… I?”

    “I don’t recall you saying it quite like that,” there was a smooth danger to Sebastian’s voice as he spoke, and Harry felt caught off-guard, unsure of how to feel about that tone. “I believe you said that you simply… ‘hadn’t ever thought about it.’”

    “Doesn't that mean I'm straight?”

    “No, it just means you've never thought about it.” His blue eyes were intent on his.

    “Huh.”

    “Do you want to think about it?” That silky, dark, danger deepened Sebastian’s voice further, and Harry’s breath caught in his throat.

    “Ron would tell me this is what he warned me about,” he breathed, trying not to audibly wheeze.

    The older man’s eyebrows rose. “Do you feel threatened by me?”

    Harry let a nervous little laugh escape. “A little.” His hands were shaking again. He stilled them against his warm cup.

    “I apologize. I didn’t mean to push. Or maybe I did, but I am sorry now and I won’t do it again.”

    “It wasn’t _that_ bad, I just wasn’t expecting…”

    “The Voice,” Sebastian purred in that low tone again. Harry laughed outright, and things lightened between them again.

    “Yeah,” Harry said finally, shaking his head a bit to clear it. “That distraction’s on you, by the way. Anyway, I said that I’d told you I wasn’t gay —”

    “Which you still haven’t —”

    “— _and,”_ he continued, mock-glaring to Sebastian's amusement, “then I said that friendship was all we were going for right now — stop choking over there I _know_ how it sounds _now—_  and he didn’t take well to _that_ statement and insinuated that the reason why a mutual friend of ours was pushed away was because _he_ was gay and —”

    The sentence had run on so long Harry actually needed to take a few breaths, causing his companion to break out in laughter again.

    “— shut up, and _then_ he warned me never to be alone with a gay man and especially not to go on anymore ‘dates with gay wizards’ and Sebastian, they had her in the house the _entire_ time. They arranged it so she could _listen_ in the study while Ron hounded me about our supposed _‘date,’_ and she popped out of the woodwork, clinging to Hermione like _I’ve_ betrayed _her,_ and she says _‘something you want to tell me, Harry?’_ like _I’ve_ done something wrong and —”

    “Breathe, Harry. Take a moment to calm down.” There was no more enjoyment on Sebastian’s face, even though Harry had donned his best ‘evil witch’ voice for quoting Ginny. It wasn’t the carefully guarded blank face he often preferred either. The other man had leaned in, and concern knitted across his brow clearly.

    “I’m alright, the tough part is still to come,” Harry said tiredly.

    “More tough than harbouring someone who _betrayed_ you in their closet and let her _spy_ on your private conversation?” He was sneering, angry now.

    “She wasn't in the closet,” Harry argued before realizing the other man had exaggerated the location to display how deviant the behavior had been.

    “Hermione tried to jump in and say that she disagreed with what they’d said about shutting out gay people, but Ginny said that it just proves that my recovery is heading in the wrong direction. She wants me to move out of here, our old place, and into _her new_ place so she can ‘take proper care of me.’”

    “I am incensed on your behalf.”

    “I can see that; it’s really helping me feel vindicated.”

    “Vindicated, nice word,” Sebastian joked, quoting Harry from earlier, but his heart clearly wasn’t in it.

    “They actually all agreed on that. That I should get back together with her, I mean. Ron had been cooking a big meal — he loves to eat, and has taken to cooking surprisingly quickly, I guess he’s motivated — and Hermione had set out _candles_ and Ginny was wearing _makeup_ and _dress_ robes, for goodness sake. They actually thought there would be a heartfelt reunion and we’d just… ‘ _kiss_ and make up.’ Ron actually said that to me. He was frustrated I didn’t want her back just like that.” Harry snapped his fingers for emphasis.

    Sebastian closed his eyes and shook his head in consternation, reaching blindly across the table for Harry’s hand, which he gave easily.

    “Even that’s not the worst part,” Harry confessed. His companion met his gaze again. “They kinda... circled me, you know?” he asked, gesturing with his free hand. When his other one felt an answering squeeze, he continued. “I was having a hard time keeping it together, but they weren’t. They were all around me, telling me to calm down, that they think this would be good for me. All the while, I’m getting more flustered, but they’re just _staring_ right back at me and Ginny is saying that they’ve _‘decided…’_ ”

    “Are you okay right now?” The other man eyed the front of his robes to gauge his breathing.

    Harry smiled at his concern. “Yeah, thanks. This is helping a lot, I think,” he said, waggling their joined hands.

    Sebastian looked uncomfortable. “If it becomes unwelcome, just let me know.”

    “It’s fine.” Harry looked slightly aside, to the potions crate. “I requested an emergency session with Healer Matilda and saw her this morning. She helped me to decide to ‘flee’ the situation by sending Ron and Hermione a letter saying not to contact me until I’m ready to handle what happened. Well, I guess that’s a little out of order. I felt my magic escaping so I Apparated here, had a meltdown, and then requested the session.”

    “It was kind of you to spare their home, though I do not think they deserved it. _You_ deserved to have that moment alone, however, so I’m glad you did.” He lifted his free hand to rub across his mouth in thought before continuing. “It was also a _very_ good idea to contact your healer. I think the letter is a good idea as well, though I would not mention that you cannot currently _‘handle’_ what happened at their house.”

    “True,” Harry admitted ruefully. “How about, after we get the owl, can you help me write the letters? Matilda didn’t mention sending one to Ginny, but I should probably send her a more permanent ‘leave me alone’ just in case she takes her lack of letter as an invitation. She was _so_ pushy yesterday.”

    “I think you should write them yourself, but I would be willing to give them a look over before you sent them if it helped you feel more comfortable.”

    “Ah, right,” Harry said, flushing. Sebastian squeezed his hand again.

    “I _am_ your friend, now, Harry, but I won’t be your crutch. Write the letters for _you,_ because it’s what’s right for _you,_ and I’ll look them over, but only to make sure they say what you think they do.”

    “You sure you skipped the chapters on international relations? You’re doing a good enough job now,” Harry grinned, ignoring as the other man uncapped his flask and took several swallows before replying.

    “Inter _personal_ relations,” the other man corrected, much to Harry’s embarrassment. “But — I have been known to use a crutch or two, to my own detriment,” the man admitted lightly after he’d chased the potion with tea, assumedly to get rid of the taste. “Misplaced anger, for one. Everyone tasted that one from me. Anyway, I’d like to help you get your home back in order so when you go to sleep tonight you can rest in peace. Would that be alright with you?”

    “More than alright,” Harry agreed, smile back on his lips. “It is greatly appreciated.”

    Some time later, as they _reparo_ and _evanesco_ -ed their way through his apartment, Harry decided to speak up about his “international” goof.

    “You know, I had big plans today. I had gone to the inter _national_ grocery store yesterday morning and the last spice I had custom ordered to make my own masala blend had arrived. I got some fun snacks to share, and even a bottle of some weird orange drink to bring to Ron and Hermione’s, which, _hah,_ I didn’t even get to _taste,_ but what I ended up doing was seeing my Healer and moping in bed all day. I'd just realized earlier that we wouldn’t get to try the snacks, that’s why I said the wrong word.”

    “Seeing the healer was the right choice, and afterwards it’s reasonable that you would seek out the most comfortable place in your home to recover. Oh, Harry,” he sighed as they reached said bed. “I do wish you had cleared the glass off first.”

    Harry tried to silently cast one of Mrs. Weasley’s famous freshening charms over his bed discreetly, but it wasn’t one he’d practiced and was definitely _not_ working. Still, Sebastian vanished or repaired the glass around the room as needed without complaining of any odors, but even so Harry was _quite_ glad when they were quit of that room.

    Their loop finished in back in the kitchen. As Harry _‘reparo!’_ -ed the lightbulb inside his Muggle fridge, Sebastian warned him that the argon was gone and every light bulb would have to be fully replaced just as it finished reassembling and the filament burst into flame inside.

    “If you wanted,” Sebastian began after casting a Cooling Charm so Harry could unscrew it without burning his fingers, “we could eat the items you purchased as a… very unhealthy dinner. Though it _is_ getting dark soon and we’ll probably be dining by Lumos-light.”

    “You’re okay to stay later? I mean, that sounds nice for me, I was really regretting not getting off my arse and putting those out.”

    “Yes, it’s fine, but what I’m saying is that the setting will be… rather romantic. After what your friend said yesterday, I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

    “It’s not a problem, for me, Sebastian,” Harry said on an exhale. “You’ve set your intentions for us and I trust you, _despite_ what I have or haven’t said about being straight.”

    “You haven’t,” he teased. And Harry let himself be cheered.

    Harry managed to find a few stubby candles under the sink--Ginny had taken all her fancy scented ones which was _just_ fine, thank you--and Sebastian managed to keep his wand lit while Harry used a Hovering Charm on it, and Harry _knew_ even with what he’d said earlier, that if Ron had seen them trying different snacks and laughing over unexpected flavors together in the soft light… he would have gone absolutely mental.

    Before Sebastian left, he brought up the thought that it might be a good idea to sort out the owl situation sooner, rather than later, so ‘not too much time passed before delivering Harry’s missives.’

    “I don’t know what work you do,” Harry said, biting his lip, “but would you be free to go with me tomorrow?”

    “I mostly produce paintings on commission, so I set my own hours. I’ll need to make up the time spent elsewhere, but that’s easy enough to do. Is the afternoon alright with you? The early morning is my favorite time to paint; I won’t be available until close to midday.”

    Harry ignored the illicit curiosity about Sebastian’s home as best as he could. He liked the idea of the other man starting his day by painting next to a window, and wondered if he drank tea or coffee in the morning as he did. “I can write the letters in the morning,” he said finally, fighting back a yawn as he did. “I’m knackered for now. Do you want to meet outside the studio… after lunch around two? We can head to Eeylops together.”

    “I am amenable to that,” the other man replied, and Harry shook his head wryly at the formal rigidity after they’d _just_ been ‘dining’ by candlelight.

 

 

    The next morning Harry made himself breakfast instead of just settling for cereal. He set the dishes to washing themselves in the sink, showered, and used all of the products he’d been advised to, even the fancy-smelling deodorant salve he’d splurged on but rarely felt comfortable using. Armed with all of his self care and wearing one of the shirts he’d bought on his very first post-war, post-Dursley clothes shopping excursion, he sat down at the desk in his bedroom for perhaps the first time since moving in two years prior.

    Luckily, Ginny had left him a few rolls of parchment in the drawer, and an old, stained inkpot from their school days, but Harry noted that if he was going to use his own owl again he’d have to restock his supplies. Beginning the letter to Ron and Hermione was difficult. Harry’s ragged quill end was soggy from being chewed on when he finally set their parchment aside and started one to Ginny.

 

_‘Dear Ginny,_

_‘I am sending a different owl to your brother and Hermione, but wanted to make sure you understand that at this time I have no intention of getting back together with you. Your attitude regarding your affair was fucking awful right up to the point where I finally managed to get you out of our apartment, and accosting me at your brother’s house and insisting_ _I_ _leave the apartment now to join you at your new one where I know you had that rat-dick fucker around is sheer insanity._

_‘Don’t write me back._

_‘Don’t whinge to Hermione how unfair I’m being._

_‘I don’t want to speak to you right now, and I don’t know if that will ever change._

_‘Harry_

_‘P.S. I still have that box of your shit.’_

 

    Despite the way the vitriol practically flew out of Harry’s quill tip, when the letter was finished he slumped back, emotionally exhausted, in his chair. He wasn't too surprised by the tears that pricked his eyes, crying easily was one of the more annoying symptoms that had sent him to the Mind Healers office in the first place, after all. Normally he'd grit his teeth and fight them back down, but this time he gave them permission to fall.

    He'd had every intention of making Ginny his bride by this time. Two years ago… moving in together had been the easiest decision he'd made up to that point. As much as he'd despised the hand of 'fate' in his life thus far, there had been something about their future that had felt 'meant to be,' and Ginny had said the same. Harry was going to be an Auror, they would send their kids off to Hogwarts one by one, and maybe when he felt like retiring from the Head position he'd slow down enough to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts to his grandchildren's generation.

    But things hadn’t worked out that way. Despite his skill in Defense there were so many things that had gone wrong in training. Not at first, when he’d sat in a quiet classroom getting O’s and EE’s, but when they’d taken their wands out in field exercises it had very clearly marked the beginning of the end for Harry’s career. He never froze like some of his other classmates, but he’d made bad calls and used spells that his trainers had considered ‘excessively rough, considering it's just _practice_.’

    He panicked. He couldn’t separate the trainer-scripted practice missions from the desperate firefights of the war. He didn’t have flashbacks, but the emotions from back then were exactly the same. He was too desperate to take out the assigned ‘bad guy’ to focus as strategically as Ron did. Still, he’d been allowed to continue into his second year, following an established Auror on easy calls around the Ministry’s jurisdiction, and that had been when the Head Trainer had asked him to drop out quietly.

    Too many people got away with laws being what they are. Harry had to tell a woman that it wasn’t rape if a love potion had been involved. Too many Muggles were seriously traumatised or injured and they were healed, Obliviated, and justice was never served. Harry’s anxiety became a wild thing, a liability in the field.

    As far as his relationship with Ginny… things had been fine at first. She’d supported him. But she became impatient with calming the same fears again and again, and frustrated when he felt uncomfortable taking her as passionately as she wished in the bedroom. She didn’t like that he couldn’t hold a job while she excelled in hers, and eventually she relied on her workplace for all her needs... as Harry discovered one day she didn’t think he’d be home.

    Harry wiped his cheeks with a final shuddering sigh. He couldn't believe Ron and Hermione would have done what they did. He placed Ginny’s letter to the side and fetched theirs again, ready to write more than just the salutation.

 

_‘Dear Ron and Hermione,_

_‘That was a major breach of trust. I need to take some time to process this before I’m going to be able to talk it out with you two. Give me space for a bit, and when I am ready I’ll reach back out to you. I’m fine, but feeling angry, hurt, and betrayed and don’t want to see you right now._

_‘Don’t talk to Ginny about me, or my recovery, any more._

_‘Harry’_

 

 

    Harry emerged onto Diagon alley a few hours later, letters in unsealed envelopes resting in his pocket and ready to visit the bank before meeting up with Sebastian. Despite the rough time he had with the letters, he felt a giddy excitement filter through his blood as he’d left his apartment. Maybe he was ready for a new owl after all.

    “Afternoon,” Sebastian greeted outside Dean’s studio gallery when his errand was complete.

    “Hey,” Harry replied more casually. “Ready?”

    His companion nodded. “Have you thought about what type of owl to get? You had a flashy white one before, correct?”

    “Hedwig,” Harry agreed, chest tight. “My very first birthday present, from my very first friend, just before my first year at Hogwarts.”

    “That is…”

    “Depressing,” Harry said, laughing at the other man’s discomfort. “You can say it, I know it’s true.”

    “So this will be the first owl you’ve purchased for yourself.”

    “Yep. Any tips?” Harry asked as they walked through the door. He held the door open for Sebastian and the man seemed vaguely surprised by the gesture.

    “Snowy owls are very intelligent magical birds,” Sebastian said quietly after they’d been greeted by the woman behind the register. “Barn owls are less so, but tend to be the most friendly. Screech owls tend to be rather fastidious, so you might have to purchase more grooming tools to keep them happy.” They paused in front of a large, angry looking bird. “Eagle owls are very heavy, but they are naturally very strong and can carry heavy burdens with more ease. Pygmy owls like this scops have a much harder time carrying packages.”

    “And they’re hyper,” added Harry with a grin. The little owl perched next to the eagle owl squeaked as if in agreement and zoomed in circles around it’s large enclosure to prove its point. “I don’t think the little one is the right one for me. Ron has this same type anyway, and it would be awkward if they made babies.”

    Sebastian’s eyebrows rose, but he replied mildly, “Perhaps you should meet some individual owls before deciding on a species.”

    “Sounds good to me.”

    In the end Harry didn’t want to get a snowy owl again. He’d loved Hedwig with all his heart, but he thought that he was at a stage in his life where he wanted something other than the haughty disposition the ones in the store seemed to share with her. In the end he chose a barn owl who’d nuzzled his hand right away when he’d pet her, and who’d come to the edge of her cage and hooted sadly at him when he’d moved on to other birds.

    “She seems rather taken with you, Mr. Potter,” remarked the woman at the counter cheerfully. “Is there anything else you need?”

    Harry needed to completely renew his owl keeping supplies. He picked out treats, a perch, and a cage, though he didn't think he'd have much use for the latter. He got paper to line the waste tray, and upgraded the self-cleaning charms on the water bowls on both the perch and in the cage. Upon her suggestion, Harry also got some bespelled mouse toys and a woven palm-frond treat puzzle for his new friend to play with in his down time.

    “Have you figured out what to name him?” Sebastian queried as his purchases were being rung up.

    “Not yet,” Harry said, just as quietly. “I have put a little thought into it since we made plans yesterday, though. I'd like to honor someone who's gone, but I haven't figured out how. I have a couple of…  fallen heroes in mind.” Harry reached up to pet his new owl's chest feathers, and the bird shifted its weight on his shoulder happily.

    “Hmm,” the other man responded neutrally, though his nod seemed to indicate approval.

    “Okay, there you go! Congratulations, you two,” The check out witch said, beaming at Harry and the owl.

    “Thanks,” said Harry, bundling up his purchases. Sebastian offered to help with the stand, but Harry declined, stating he would feel better not to burden him. The man had just opened his mouth--probably to argue by the stubborn look on his face--when the witch behind them cleared her throat nervously.

    “Um, Mr. Potter? Would you mind signing this, please?”

    “Er,” Harry responded eloquently, staring down at the article in her hands. It was the front page spread of Harry after the final battle. The gray lumps printed beyond his bloody face were bodies of friend and foe. The girl had obviously had it for a while, it was well-worn on the fold lines.

    “Sure.” he said finally, finding himself unable to say 'no.’ He took the proffered quill and scratched out his name, then fled the shop as quickly as he could.

    “Sorry, Sebastian, could you give me a moment?” _Breathe, two, three, four._

    “Of course.” The older man's scowl was absolutely fierce as they rested between shops for a few minutes and Harry tamped down the fear response that had risen at the sight of the blurry dead bodies. He prayed he hadn't just ruined the outing, but he still had hope for the rest of it when he realized Sebastian's glares were all for those staring too closely, not for him.

    Still, he apologized. “I'm sorry. I should have worn my glamour today.”

    The other man's gaze was careful on his. “I have my glasses with me, but I prefer not to have to use them.”

    It was the first time he'd even indirectly acknowledged the glasses were for seeing through glamours only. “I prefer being me. Just Harry.”

    “Then ‘just Harry’ you shall be.” The response came with that same stoically raised eyebrow, then his eyes moved to rest on their owl companion. “Did you bring the letters with you, or should we return to your home?”

    “I have them,” confirmed Harry. “Should we find a place to sit while you read them? They're not long, but if I need to make corrections--oh, I forgot I need to pick up more writing supplies now, too.”

    “Ink Pots N’ Bobs, then we'll figure out where to sit,” planned Sebastian. “Unless you prefer the smaller selection at Flourish & Blotts.”

    “I've never been in Ink Pots,” said Harry. “I'm not picky, though.”

    “They have a line of artist inks that I find useable enough,” the other man said charitably. Harry shoved off the wall with a chuckle, and they were on their way.

    Harry had never seen so many different colors of ink before. In the end, though, he settled for just getting two black pots, and also replaced the scarlet pot that he'd liked as a student.

    “I am surprised that your hands are not full of the new Light-Fast Gryffindor-Inspired Rapid-Color-Changing Ink,” Sebastian commented, scorn thickening his voice with every word listed in the adverts plastered all over the store. He was carrying a full box of empty jars, the same style he used to hold his homemade paints in class.

    “I was tempted,” he admitted, and the other man snorted. “-but I know I'd never use it. I like the way it looks in the pot though.” He picked one up and shook it, showing how the color rapidly flashed red to shining gold and back again.

    “Your choices are sensible enough,” Sebastian conceded. “Going to be marking some papers?”

    Harry's brow furrowed in confusion, before cottoning on to the red ink in his hand. “Oh, no, I just like using this color. Tell me, do all of these quills really write differently? Why are some so expensive?” He fingered a label which listed Self-Inking Quills at a galleon each, the cheapest of that type.

    “Ah, my dear Mr. Potter!” exclaimed the stout store owner before his friend could reply, “I would be glad to assist you!”

    “Er, okay,” said Harry weakly. He was uncomfortable with the way the man had seemingly been standing by and waiting for his chance to jump in. Sebastian's lips thinned, but he took a step backwards to make room for the owner to squeeze his way between them.

    The rotund little man spoke animatedly about nib shapes and point guards for a few minutes before moving on to the Self-Inking quills that had caught Harry's eye in the first place.

    “Now _these_ are quite the bit of deviceful spellwork indeed, if I do say so myself,” the man said, chuckling good-naturedly. “They rely on an open-ended wide-range Locating spell to connect to a manufacturer-approved Source Pot, like these here. The pots you have there _unfortunately_ will not work. The spells must be linked!”

    Harry looked between the plain ink pots in his hand and the flashy display of ‘Source Pots.’ The gaudy pots were, of course, more than three times as expensive as the ones he'd chosen. “Better stick to a plain set, I think,” he said regretfully, thinking of the woefully small pile of coins left in his vault after he'd retrieved owl money. Over the owner's head he saw Sebastian frown in confusion, and he cleared his throat and searched for another subject away from his impending poverty.

    “What's up with the ragged ones,” he diverted quickly, gesturing to a tub full of quills that looked as though they'd already survived an exam or two.

    “Oh-ho-ho, of _course_ you've spotted your very own Harry Potter line of quills!” warbled the shop owner gleefully, to Harry's shock. “Not as immediately fancy as the ‘youngest seeker in a century’ Quidditch robes over at Quality Supplies, but look here: solid gold edging on the spine and see!” The man, turning the glass tub this way and that so Harry could see the lines of gold running from tip to end, removed one quill so Harry could focus on the solid gold nib. He squeezed the quill between two fingers and two golden wings unfurled, just like a Snitch's. He smiled widely as the quill slowly fluttered upwards, but the expression dropped immediately once he's caught sight of his young customer's face.

    “Would you give us a moment,” Sebastian intervened smoothly, reaching around the man to take hold of Harry's arm and pull him further in towards the back of the shop.

    “Breathe,” he reminded Harry carefully, hands grasping the panicking man's upper arms firmly. “Where has your mind gone this time?”

    Harry felt no judgement in the question, and held onto the other man's sleeves, too worked up to contemplate holding onto the other man's arms as firmly as his own were held. “How does this happen?” He whispered incredulously. “They had _my signature_ on them! How can they sell a half-chewed quill like that and _say_ it's from me?!”

    “Surely you knew about this,” Sebastian remarked mildly. “You had your own line of children's toys before you would have been out of nappies.”

    “No, _I_ didn't,” Harry argued. Magic cracked quietly and the hands holding him still tightened in warning, and the owl still on his shoulder hooted loudly in alarm. “I didn't do any that!”

    “Breathe,” reminded Sebastian. “If you wish we can talk about this later and discuss options. I do not think now is the time or place.”

    “Right. Er, thanks,” Harry said, obediently using his breathing exercise to still his rapid heartbeat. Sebastian nodded, letting go of his arms and his owl gently buffeted his head with an outstretched wing. It felt similar to getting a pat on the back. “Heh, you too, boy.”

    The owl let out a soothing coo as they made their way to the front again. Harry snagged some basic quills on the way and brushed off the owner's stuttered apologies. It was clear he didn't know what he'd done to upset Harry and didn't have an clue that the quills were not actually sanctioned by him to be made in his name.

    “Do you need a minute?” Sebastian asked kindly after they'd left the cluttered store.

    “No, I'm fine. It helped that he seemed rather genuine. Let's find somewhere to chat about the letters and finish that part off.”

    They'd just turned to head towards the Leaky Cauldron when a new voice called out, “Mr. Potter! Mr. Potter!”

    Sebastian cursed darkly under his breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Despite Sebastian's clear line in the sand in the last chapter... I *do* believe he doth flirt too much. ;D
> 
> And also... Ginny's letter. I love that thing. Every time I read "I still have that box of your shit." I lose it just a little. Get 'em, Harry! >:D


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Sebastian are spotted by a friend in Diagon Alley, and later Dean makes an interesting offer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is shorter than any other because when I was figuring out where exactly to place the label for "Chapter Six" in my Google docs I forgot to make it Heading style. So I had TWO chapter sixes, oops! I've rechecked my labeling and the total chapter count has been bumped up to 26, now. Since this chapter was mistakenly labeled, I didn't notice it in the doc and therefore it is only *half* as long as the others. So... I'll get to work editing and posting chapter six number 2 (heretofore known as chapter seven, lol) as soon as I post this. :)

    Despite the quality of the interruptions so far, the newest greeting proceeded to be a nice one. Florean Fortescue's nephew, who had reopened his uncle's shop after inheriting his secret cache of recipes, was standing by his front tables, waving two honey-brown cones in the air.

    “Butterbeer toffee swirl!” He hollered. “On the house if you tell me what you think of the new recipe!”

    Harry, who had greatly appreciated all the free ice cream he'd been given before third year, had turned pleading eyes to his companion. Sebastian then barked out a surprised laugh before quickly smothering it in his hand.

    “That would be a hard expression to say ‘no’ to,” he commented to the air around them. “Let's have it then. We needed to sit anyway.”

    Harry gleefully consumed his cone, pouring out compliments like water as the young owner clasped his hands in glee. Sebastian ate his treat far more sedately, and offered his thoughts on the sugar/salt ratio in the toffee in a far more sophisticated manner.

    “That was so good,” moaned Harry after the dessert was finished and Nathaniel, as Florean's nephew insisted he be called, had taken their wrappers and napkins away. “It was worth ruining my dinner for.”

    “If he manages to turn out more recipes like that he should have no problem carrying on his uncle's legacy.” Sebastian agreed. “Licensing out that flavor to sell at Honeydukes is a particularly good idea. A bit sweet for me, but the students will surely buy it by the tonne.”

    Harry quirked a smile at the thought, then with a regretful sigh pulled the two envelopes from his robes and set them on the table. The owl on the back of the chair next to them warbled excitedly at the sight, and Harry stroked a calming hand over his keel feathers. “As much as I don't want to break the cheerful mood, I would appreciate a second look over these. I'm worried I was too rough in Ron and Hermione's.”

    “I'll look it over carefully, then,” the older man assured softly, already peeling out the worrisome paper. Harry sat in silence, petting his ecstatic bird as the short missive was read and pondered over.

    “I don't think it is too rough,” Sebastian said finally. “You state your wishes and say how you're feeling quite clearly without insults or _overtly_ blaming them. The only thing I'd change is in this first line… _‘I need to take some time to process this before I’m going to be able to talk it out with you_ ’ is too close to admitting you can't handle it right now.”

    Harry nodded thoughtfully. They'd agreed the night before that wasn't a good sentiment to share. “You don't think it's coming across too strong? They're my best friends, I don't want to alienate them forever.”

    Sebastian seemed to hear the dread in his voice and reached over for his hand. “It's okay to be strong for yourself, Harry. As horrible as what they did was, even someone like me can see that they were trying to be strong for _you_ , in their own way. Maybe it is good for you to push right back, to show them you can make your own decisions. The way they did what they did made you question yourself, didn’t it?”

    “Well, yeah, I guess,” Harry admitted, drawing an invisible design on the table with his free hand. “I thought I was doing rather well, despite not having a solid job yet. I was feeling happy. I was looking forward to making my own chai and getting your opinion on my first go of it. And I didn't _feel_ out of control yet, but they were still interrupting me and telling me to calm down before I could get proper words out.”

    “Letting go of other’s opinions was the hardest part for me,” Sebastian said, squeezing his hand comfortingly. “For a long time I went too far in the other direction and _only_ cared about my own feelings. It’s good to strike a balance.”

    “Harry? Sebastian?”

    Sebastian snatched his hand back, but Harry withdrew more slowly, frowning over at Dean who was approaching from the direction of his gallery.

    “I didn’t realize you two were friends,” Dean said conversationally once he’d reached their table, though his eyes still flickered between them curiously. “What brings you two to Diagon Alley on a Tuesday?”

    “Meet Prince,” Harry replied by way of explanation, indicating his new barn owl next to him. Sebastian’s gaze slowly shifted to his, and Harry quirked a smile. “That’s what I’ve decided to name him.”

    “I didn’t know of any royalty that fought in the war,” the older man said. His dark blue gaze sent an unexpected feeling up Harry’s back, lifting the hair on the nape of his neck.

    “Well, no, but in any case, he was the bravest man I’ve ever known.”

    “Talking about Snape again?” Dean asked, amused. “At least you’re not drunk this time. Or are you?”

    “Gerroff it, Dean,” Harry complained, laughing. Sebastian sat back in his chair, and Harry glanced at him, not understanding the flat look in his face.

    “Anyway, now that I’ve seen you two, I’ll tell you a secret.” Dean leaned in conspiratorily. “The theme for this week is going to be ‘celebration.’ Don’t tell anyone I told you! I expect great things since you’ll have extra time to prepare! I’ll see you then.”

    Harry waved, bemused, and Sebastian groaned softly. “He definitely only came over because he saw us holding hands.”

    Harry frowned, coming to a startled realization. “I’m not getting in the way of anything between you two, am I? Should I go explain?”

    “That is wholly unnecessary.” Sebastian said quickly, holding up both hands in a quelling gesture. “Our relationship is strictly professional, and I’ve never considered making it otherwise.”

    His voice was sincere enough that Harry stopped worrying about blocking his new friend’s path to romance. “Anyway, thanks for what you said about being strong. I didn’t use to have a problem with giving as good as I got… working through these problems with Matilda makes me question myself a lot in other ways, too.”

    "There's nothing wrong with a little introspection," Sebastian said, rubbing that wide finger over his mouth again. "When it becomes a distraction... an obsession, though..." Sebastian handed over the letter instead of finishing and Harry pinpointed the sentence he needed to change. He changed ‘able’ to ‘willing’ and nodded in satisfaction.

    “I’m less concerned about that one,” Harry said, indicating Ginny’s letter. Sebastian opened it on cue. “I just want to make sure I’m clear enough in it that she needs to back off.”

    “Oh, my,” the other man responded as he scanned the parchment. His eyebrows rose as his gaze tracked lower down the page. “The language is… interesting, but you leave open the possibility for a reconciliation here at the end. ‘--Don’t want to see you _right now.’_ ‘Don’t know _if_ that will ever change’ indicates that she might be able to redeem herself. Is that your intention?”

    Harry nodded. “We’ve been through a lot together. I thought that we’d be married by now, honestly, maybe with a kid on the way. I don’t think _that’s_ ever going to happen _now_ , but I’d like to think we could still be friends, eventually.”

    Sebastian slid the letter back across the table. “It’s not my preferred writing style,” he said with a smirk, ‘but I think it gets the point across.”

    “‘Rat-dick’ was a nice touch, huh,” Harry teased.

    “It does sound as if you are... or were jealous.”

    “I was,” Harry agreed. “Faithfulness is absolutely critical for me. As you’ve probably gathered by now, she wasn’t. That is always going to be a deal breaker for me.”

    “I feel the same.” Harry smiled at the show of support and offered the letters to Prince.

    “Are you ready for your first delivery, Prince?” The owl chittered happily and grabbed the letters, setting their hair in disarray as he took off enthusiastically.

    “I didn’t even tell him where to go,” Harry mused, watching the flapping bird shrink into the distance.

    “He seemed most eager. I do hope he delivers your ex’s letter to the right witch.”

    “Oh, Merlin.”

 

 

     “So, that seemed to go well at least,” Harry said to Matilda the next day during their normal session. “Prince returned with this from Hermione late last evening.” He smoothed the reply over his lap.

    “What does it say?”

"'Dear Harry

    “‘I just received your letter. Of course you can have some time. I’m still really confused about how it all played out, but I understand that despite my intention to help you and Ginny that there is something else perhaps I didn’t know about the situation. Ron says that he “just doesn’t get it” and is still concerned about you spending time alone with Sebastian, but I think you and I both realize that’s _his_ problem, not yours. I hope you know I support you whatever shape that friendship takes.

“‘Take all the time you need.

“‘Love, Hermione.’”

    “How does that response make you feel?”

    “It is better than I was afraid of,” admitted Harry. “To be honest, I was really surprised that she was involved in springing Ginny on me like that. She’s normally way more, well, _smart_ than that.”

    “I get the feeling she may not know the reason you and Ginny broke up.”

    “That’s because she doesn’t. It was difficult at the time… Ron is her brother, and Hermione one of her best friends. We all did everything together before the war and then during our last year of school together, afterwards. I didn’t feel comfortable bad-mouthing her to them, even if I was just saying the truth about what happened.”

    “Perhaps when you are ready, Hermione will be open to hearing your side of the story too. It doesn’t seem like Ginny is being very forthright about her part either, and now you’re suffering from it.”

    “I wouldn’t say suffering,” Harry argued. “But, maybe. I’m glad she is supportive of my friendship with Sebastian. He’s been great to have around so far. Even though...”

    “Even though…?”

    Harry leaned forward, voice soft so his words would absolutely _not_ escape the room. “I’m a little worried about what Ron said. I think we _have_ been… kind of... going on dates.”

    “Do you think that's a bad thing?” she asked him in return, displaying no visible reaction to his uncertainty.

    “Well, not _so_ far,” Harry said, startled. “But I wouldn't like to hurt _him_. He doesn't want to have a relationship like _that_ with me, but that doesn't mean he won't feel attached _eventually_ and suffer for it. Though we joke about it, I still haven't, you know, _‘thought about it_ ’ yet.”

    “What's stopping you?” Matilda had asked curiously. You said the jokes started Monday, right? What has stopped you these past two days from asking yourself how you feel about it?”

    “I guess… when were together I'm focusing on what we're saying _together_ you know? The conversation we're creating. It would feel odd to take the time to think about other blokes while he's right there.”

    “Why not think about him? He's ‘right there,’ right?”

    “... No,” Harry responded firmly, aghast. “That's not right either. He's obviously a very private person. I'm not going to use him that way.”

    “Oh, my. I didn't mean sexually, necessarily. Just exploratory thinking. What would it be like to go on a real date? Would you feel happy kissing someone like him, a man that you get along with? What kind of hobbies would two committed _men_ enjoy together that might be different because neither of you are trying to think like a woman? In your mind, with two men, how would you decide who did which chore? And the final test, would you be willing to give up having biological children in order to help that vision come true?”

    Harry’s mouth turned down in thought. There was a rising feeling in his chest that he was not ready to examine. Instead, he focused on the last sentence she'd offered.

    "I don't think I'd be a good dad anyway," he said with his head down. "I haven't been to see Teddy in months. Even now when I'm back on my feet somewhat..."

    "What stops you?"

    "I... have a hard time with anxiety when I'm with him. What does he want? What if I screw up, he hates me... I've failed? In the end, what if he grows up feeling about me the way I feel about my own Aunt?"

    "Well, those are as good and powerful of a set of emotions to explore as any. When was the first time you can recall feeling this fear? That you will fail, or let someone down?"

    Harry thought... and of course it all came back to his early childhood, and to the Dursleys.

 

 

     “Hey Dean!”

    “Oh, hey, Harry, what’s up?”

    “Hang on, _muffliato_.” Across the room near their normal stations, Sebastian looked up with a frown, but Harry smiled and waved and turned back to his old schoolmate. “I actually wanted a quick word with you, if that’s okay.”

    “Sure.” Dean’s dark brows were furrowed in confusion.

    “I heard… something unfortunate recently. I wanted to apologise for the way the guys have distanced themselves from you after Hogwarts. If I had known for one second that it was happening, or why…”

    “It’s alright, Harry. I didn’t realize you didn’t know I was into men. I thought _everyone_ knew."

    There was a bitter note in his voice which made Harry’s heart clench in sympathy. He knew what it was like to be abandoned due to malicious gossip. “I guess it never came up around me. In any case, I’m sorry for being so thick about it.”

    “That means a lot, Harry. So… you and Sebastian, huh?”

    Harry blushed. “It’s not like that. We’re friends.”

    “You know I asked him out before we started the class and he turned me down?” Dean’s eyes were crinkled in amusement. “Wonder what is different between _you_ two.”

    “It’s really not like that!” Harry gasped.

    “Sure, sure. It’s not like you’ve ever held hands or anything.”

    Harry covered his face, which was getting impossibly hotter.

    “Hey... you know, if you ever want to go out to a gay bar or something to figure out exactly how you feel about that kind of relationship, let me know.” Dean offered, suddenly solemn. “If you’re going to hold hands with another wizard it’s something you should figure out sooner rather than later. Falling for a straight man is _extremely_ painful.”

    “Okay,” Harry mumbled into his palms. “I’ll let you know.”

    “I need to start the session now. We good?”

    “Yep, _finite_.”

    “Okay, everyone! We have a happy theme to focus on today. Set up your stations and focus on the theme: _celebration_. As always, raise your hand if you need any assistance.”

    “Good conversation? I didn’t hear a word, but your lips were moving.” Sebastian said mildly when Harry came nearer.

    Harry nodded, casting “ _muffliato!”_ again. “It creates an area of privacy. Anything you say inside the area sounds muffled and indistinct outside, like buzzing. I wanted to apologize to Dean. _He_ was the one our friends were pushing away because he was gay. I never realized. I thought we were all just... growing apart naturally.”

    Sebastian nodded. “That’s very kind of you.”

    Something grabbed Harry’s throat and made him say: “He offered to take me to a gay bar.”

    Sebastian stared back impassively. “Oh?”

    “To see if there’s a possibility I might be open to being… bi, I guess.” His face was carefully blank, but those eyes were...

    “Did you accept the offer?”

    “Not yet.” Harry glanced down, unable to handle the intensity anymore. “I don’t think I’m there, yet.”

    “Hmm." Sebastian replied, still studying him carefully, before flicking his eyes off to the side. "This is a useful spell, though I've never heard of it before.”

    “It was created by Severus Snape, actually.”

    “The man you painted for ‘love.’”

    Harry's flush, which had never fully gone away, burned once more. Why was everyone freely insinuating he had feelings for men, either Snape or Sebastian? “It's not like _that_ ,” he complained. “He was head over heels for my mum.”

    Sebastian made a face like someone had slipped him an Acid Pop when he'd been expecting a Levitation Lolly. “Ah. Still, it’s a shame the spell isn’t common knowledge. I could only imagine what _hijinks_ one could have gotten up to as a student.”

    His voice had gone low again, though not as silky deep as ‘The Voice’ they had laughed over the other day. Somehow, the tone made Harry realize first first sentence he had said was entirely true.

    “I wouldn’t even know where to begin, getting it published,” Harry mused.

    Sebastian shrugged, though his gaze was anything but nonchalant. “Maybe you should. It would be nice to have your name in the paper as having created such a handy spell.”

    Harry glowered. “We agree on so much that it pisses me off to hear that kind of talk from you.”

    Sebastian smoothed away the smile that attempted to erupt in the face of Harry's ire. “You’re right. I’m sorry for testing you.”

    “You can talk to me, you know,” Harry said shortly. “Ask me things. I’ve been an open book so far, haven’t I?”

    “I guess you have,” he responded with a conciliatory nod, realizing that Harry was not joking about this.

    “Why were you testing me anyway?” Harry asked, mouth turning down at the corners. “Did I do something wrong on Tuesday? I don't _like_ that kind of attention, you saw that, right? I should have worn my glamour.”

    “Tuesday was fine. You should be free to be yourself, and if you had worn a mask you wouldn’t have discovered that people are using your image without your permission. You just surprise me is all.”

    “I do?”

    “I keep expecting you to say the exact opposite of what you actually do,” Sebastian confessed. “I keep hearing portions of stories from you that make me realize you didn’t have the life the papers say you did, but still, I’m frequently caught off guard.”

    “If we’re going to make this red-flag friendship work, you’re going to have to… to…”

    “I understand. You're right, and I'm sorry.” Being spoken to so directly was a soothing balm... but Harry had one more worry born from past experience that wouldn't abate.

    “Dean said you turned him down. Did you only accept from me because I'm The-Boy-Who-Lived-Twice?” He couldn't prevent his face from twisting with disgust at the moniker, and Sebastian made one that nearly matched.

    “Of _course_ not.”

    Harry immediately relented. “I didn't _really_ think so. It didn't seem like it."

    “Don’t compare your offer to Dean’s,” Sebastian warned gravely. “He didn’t want my friendship. He was after something else, something I _can’t_ give, ever. No matter where your journey of self-discovery leads, it’s important to know that.”

    Harry nodded, but the unexpected way he’d reacted to “The Voice” on Monday and the things Matilda had told him to think about in counseling flashed through his mind when he met Sebastian's intent blue glare. When Harry canceled the Muffling spell and they turned their attentions to their workstations, both men looked a little less certain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you. Maybe I've made this the end note a few too many times... but I am grateful you read all the way down to here. I'll start editing and posting the seventh chapter right now to make up for the shortness of this one.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Sebastian's visits become comfortable and informational, and Harry reaches back out to his friends.

# Chapter Seven

 

    “It seems your owl has taken over every room of the house.”

    “You haven't checked the bedroom yet,” Harry countered cheekily. “But... yeah, there's a stand in there too. I went back under cover to see if there was anything else with my name on it and grabbed some more.”

    “And was there?”

    “I left the list by your spot at the table, I hope that's alright. I'll make your tea, if you want to look.”

    “I _did_ say we could discuss it later,” Sebastian said archly, removing his thick cloak he'd worn in the rain and draping it over the spare chair. “You found all this in one afternoon?”

    “There's a lot, isn't there.”

    “You didn't know about any of these.”

    “Nope, here's your tea. I remembered to stir it this time.” Harry stood back with bated breath, watching as the cup was lifted and blown on. Sebastian caught his stare.

    “Why do I feel like you want something from me?”

    “I made the tea,” Harry confessed. “This is try number three; I liked it the most.”

    “Well, sit down. I can hardly tell you what I think of it if you're breathing down my neck, can I?”

    Harry skipped over to his chair, heart pounding in his chest with anticipation. Even though he'd been drinking spiced tea for months, all he'd been able to think about as he mixed the different ingredients together was the _other_ man's reaction, not his own. He might have been happy enough with the first blend if he hadn't been making it with Sebastian's approval in mind.

    Now that the other man finally had the cup in his hands he was making quite the show out of drinking it. First, he tested the temperature around the sides and breathed in the scent floating up above it, then took another, more cautious sniff down into the heart of the steam. When he let out a long, luxurious blow across the top Harry had had enough.

    “Seriously?” he admonished impatiently.

    “Patience, Harry,” the other man replied, and Harry's gut clenched painfully. He'd slipped past several shades of dark and used ‘The Voice’ again.

    “Not fair,” he said weakly, and the other man chuckled before taking a large sip.

    “It's quite good,” Sebastian said after a moment. “Although...” He took in another sip and held it in his mouth for a few seconds before swallowing. “The cinnamon is a tad strong.”

    Harry agreed. “I wanted to use spices that were as fresh as possible, and I didn't realize just how much flavor is lost in the cinnamon I usually get at the corner store.”

    “Still, though, it's delicious. I was prepared to be polite but I'm pleased I don't have to fabricate niceties.”

    Harry laughed, “Me too.”

    “What do you want to do about these products?” Sebastian asked, smoothly changing the subject by gesturing towards the list at his side.

    “I don't know,” replied Harry miserably. “I don't want to make anyone's livelihood harder, but I don't want… _merchandise._ If I could still have the same life but fade away into obscurity then I would do that. When this world was all still so new to me, I met somebody who was obsessed with their own public image. I hated that man, and I _never_ wanted to be anything like him. And now, apparently, I have more things named after me than he ever did and I _hate_ it.”

    “I've not heard of this happening to someone else before,” Sebastian admitted. “The best thing I can think of would be to speak to a Law Wizard who has a background in commerce litigation or perhaps sporting contracts, as athletes need to negotiate image rights up front.”

    Harry frowned. “How do I find a wizard I've never met before, and I don't know where they work?”

    “All businesses are required to file for an operating permit through the Ministry, and all currently-licenced Law Wizards will be registered with the Undersecretary of the Wizengamot — though that will just be a list of names, mind. The Census Department also compiles a book of advertisements each year. To be honest, your best bet is inquiring by word of mouth, though. Poring through lists of business names and advertisements won't give you a clear idea of the quality you will be receiving if you were to hire their services.”

    “I see. It's too bad that Ron and I are on the outs, right now. I might have been able to inquire after the Chudley Cannons’ Law Wizard.”

    “I was unaware that he was working with them. I thought I saw in the paper that he had graduated Auror school.”

    “No, you're right. He's just always been obsessed with them. A super-fan.”

    “Ah, I see. In any case, if you can stand to wait, it might be a good idea to inquire with your friend. This will undoubtedly be a high-profile case and since it's been occurring without repercussions for two decades it might be difficult to win damages.”

    “Damages?” Harry frowned. He just wanted the branding to stop, he didn't think that he'd be _owed_ anything.

    “A back payment on all of the Galleons earned on the misuse of your name. It will be difficult to find all of the people who have profited off of different products over the last 20 or so years, or establish a proper audit at all after all this time, but it might be enough to deter future infractions.”

    “It would be nice to have some financial help,” conceded Harry. “After leaving Auror training I've had a hard time holding a job. I'm too recognisable, it gets in the way even if I didn't have issues with anxiety.”

    Sebastian inclined his head in acknowledgment, but seemed troubled. “That may be so, but I do not believe it is a good idea to rely on the potential settlement as an income source. Even if you wanted to go after the inventors of these products as hard as you could and take all of the profits, it's still would be a very long time before you would see a Knut of it.”

    Harry grimaced. “Yeah. I _really_ don't want to hurt anybody. I just don't want to be used. Hey--I really appreciate all the help you're giving me. I like how you don't just give me one answer, but you give multiple options from different angles. Thank you.”

    Sebastian waved him off, but his cheeks tinted red. Harry wondered if perhaps he wasn't used to such bald gratitude, and wondered as a commissioned painter how often people demanded things from him without giving him proper due.

    “So... going back to our discussion on Friday” Harry said slowly, “where are you said that you expect certain things from me but then I do the opposite. I'd really like to know how to fix that. It's important to me that my friends take me as I am. I don't want to be The Boy Who Lived with you.”

    “Boy Who Lived _Twice_ ,” Sebastian added with a smirk, much to Harry's play-acted dismay. “Perhaps, if you're comfortable doing so, you should tell me from the beginning the story of _you_. ‘Just Harry,’ as you mentioned the other day.”

    “I can do that,” agreed Harry hesitantly. “I don't think I've ever given my whole life story out before.”

    “It doesn't have to be now. You may think about it if you wish.”

    “No, I think now is fine. I enjoy spending time with you and I would like to get this out of the way sooner, rather than later, so we are not building a friendship on misunderstandings.”

    Sebastian nodded, sipping from his mug peacefully.

    “I know everyone else sees the beginning of my life as the moment that my parents died, but for me... my life began in a cupboard.”

    Sebastian frowned, placing his cup back down. “ _In_ a cupboard? As in, inside?”

    “Yes. When I was very young I did not realize there was anything wrong with it. I grew up feeling angry and disillusioned as I watched my cousin fill his two bedrooms with toys that he inevitably ended up breaking within a week of owning them.. but it's not been until I received help from Healer Matilda that I've come to realize how insidious their lack of care has been later in my life.”

    “So your cousin was able to fill up two bedrooms with the gifts his parents lavished upon him, but for you the only thing they thought to give _you_ was a used tissue? Were they your primary caregivers or just family that you visited during the holidays?”

    “They were all that I had. According to them my parents had died in a drunken car crash, and they'd been ‘stuck with me.’ Whenever they had enough of me, they locked me in my cupboard, sometimes for days, or gave me pages of chores to do, so I just tried to stay out of the way. Not to mention my cousin was an awful bully from being spoiled so much. He became a champion boxer later, though, so I guess the practice helped.”

    “Meanwhile, all around Europe, the rest of the wizarding world lifted glasses to your name once a year. Never knowing where you were.”

    “I had always wondered why such funny-looking people would be so nice to me on the street,” admitted Harry, “but if I ever acknowledged them I would get locked in again.”

    A hand smoothed over Sebastian's mouth, a gesture so familiar by now that it comforted Harry, despite their topic of conversation. “I had no idea,” the man said finally. “Your first year... when the _Prophet_ showed pictures of you arriving with your flashy white owl, attached to the Weasley family as if you were already a part of their brood, I just assumed…”

    “My uncle left me at the station,” Harry corrected. “There was no platform nine and three-quarters that he could see. If the Weasleys had not passed by exactly when I needed them to you I might not have made it to Hogwarts at all, _or_ back home. It was the very first time we'd met, in the Muggle station.”

    Sebastian's lips thinned suddenly. “Your uncle… is he related to you on your father side?”

    “No, it was my Aunt Petunia. My mother's sister.”

    Sebastian's face shifted into his carefully-blank mask. “I'm gathering from what you have told me that you did not have much experience with magic by the time you came to school.”

    “Nope. Wouldn't have had any experience at all if Professor Dumbledore hadn't sent Hagrid to find me. He was — and still is, actually — the groundskeeper and keeper of keys, and he hunted me down to where the Dursleys had hidden me from all the admissions letters.”

    The older man's face twitched. “I'm guessing there were many, then?”

    “My uncle had boarded up the mail slot and the fireplace and _all_ the windows and they burst through like a rectangular snow storm.” Harry lifted his hands and tilted his head back to pantomime his boyhood joy, chuckling.

    “It is a most fantastical tale,” Sebastian commented with a small smile tugging his lips to the side. “I had no idea your life before Hogwarts was anything like this. If not for your utter sincerity, I might not believe it now.”

    “I glossed over a lot of painful stuff,” Harry confided, “-but that's the basic gist. It seems everything we go over in my Healing sessions ties back to my Aunt and Uncles treatment of me, so I believe it's important enough to share.”

    Sebastian reached over to give his hand a brief squeeze before returning it to the sides of his mug once again.

    “At least once you arrived at Hogwarts you would have gotten the support you needed, right? You were famous for saving them all, anyway.”

    “Maybe it might have gone that way... if Voldemort hadn't possessed the Defense professor.”

    Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “You don't say.”

    Harry grinned ruefully.

 

 

     In the following weeks, they developed something of a routine. Harry met with Healer Matilda on schedule every week, and now that Sebastian had become something of a fixture in Harry's life they stopped focusing so much on _him_ , and went back to examining his recurrent triggers and working out their sources. Feeling more able, he restarted his weekly visits with Teddy, though the stress of wanting to do everything exactly right around the little boy never went away. He never got any better at painting, but he still attended art therapy and took some time to chat with Dean before leaving each week--now that he knew the other boy had essentially been left alone.

    On Monday afternoons Sebastian came over for tea and Harry revealed, a year each week, the story of his life. Sebastian had little to share in return but he told Harry of new commissions, difficult customers, and once let slip while petting Prince that he liked to garden outdoors on the weekends. The night after Harry revealed the occurrences after the Tri-Wizard Tournament, a heartsore Harry decided he was ready to have his friends close again and invited Ron and Hermione out to eat, following Matilda's suggestion that he keep the reunion public so they all had reasons to be on their best behavior.

    They planned to meet on a Sunday, the same time as the last failed dinner.

    “Oh, Harry, it's so good to see you!” He returned Hermione's tight hug with one of his own, and courteously ignored the shine of tears in her eyes when she finally pulled away.

    “Where's Ron?” he asked, glancing about but seeing no sign of his friend in the booths or at the bar.

    “I told him to stay home,” Hermione confessed. “I asked him if he could leave off with you about Sebastian or Ginny and he couldn't give me a straight answer. I thought it was better if I came alone until he is as ready as _I_ am to just _listen._ ”

    Harry's eyebrows rose. “Wow. Thanks, 'Mione.”

    The witch's eyes glistened once again with the mention of her nickname. “I _have_ missed you, Harry. It hasn't felt right, since that day… and Ron's been extra grumpy, but I _know_ he feels the same.”

    “Let's find a booth, and we'll talk,” offered Harry gently.

 

 

    Taking Healer Matilda's words to heart, Harry hesitantly explained to Hermione the various reasons why he and Ginny fell apart, and then broke up. It was scary to say it all... it did feel like he was ragging on her dear friend, but it was also revealing his own failures to keep them together... to keep her satisfied.

    “I'm so sorry, Harry. I really had no idea any of that had happened.”

    Harry offered Hermione his napkin, bemused by the waterworks. “I'll admit it's been rough, but I'm a bit surprised by _this_ reaction. What's going on, Hermione?”

    “Oh, it's nothing _bad_ , and it's been so difficult not being able to tell you sooner, but Harry, I'm _pregnant._ ”

    His jaw dropped. “With Ron's…?”

    Hermione frowned through her tears. “Harry.”

    Harry backtracked quickly, eyeing the woman like she was liable to explode at any moment. “I didn't mean like that — I guess I'm just… wow, congratulations, Hermione.”

    “Andromeda said last week that you're visiting with Teddy again. That _so_ good, Harry.”

    “Er, yeah,” Harry stuttered uncomfortably. “I guess so. It's a little awkward still, but we get on alright.”

    “And you're still… seeing Sebastian?”

    Harry narrowed his eyes. “He's my friend.”

    “I know! I'm just curious, I guess. You can be whoever you want to be, Harry. Especially now that I'm pregnant… now that I know how things ended between you and Ginny… I just want you to be _happy_.”

    Harry shook his head as her eyes filled again. “We're just friends, Hermione. Even if I were open to more, he's made it clear he's not interested.”

    “Oh, Harry. I'm so sorry. So you _do_ like him then?”

    Harry spluttered out the sip of ice water he'd taken. “I'm not…! I mean, well, recently I've wondered if I might be… but I haven't really _thought_ about…”

    Hermione giggled at his obvious distress. “You _know_ it's okay with me,” she assured him. “But… does he know you're… _thinking_ in his direction? I would hate for you to get hurt if you're spending so much time together, but he doesn't want to pursue anything.”

    Harry frowned, a little puzzled by the unexpected angle she was viewing them from. “I’ve been more worried about the opposite. Because he definitely _is_ gay, and I’ve only ever thought about girls.”

    “Until now,” Hermione reminded him cautiously. Harry looked away, embarrassed. “You know, after what happened, I went to the library.”

    “Shocking,” Harry grinned.

    “Oh, you. I went to the _Muggle_ library, actually. To look up complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder _and_ books on sexuality.”

    Harry’s face flamed, but she was undeterred. “I think the reason why I was so quick to jump on Ginny’s train was because she seemed so focused, and _I_ didn’t know how to help. Maybe she was just too ashamed to tell the truth, but from speaking with her, it really seemed to Ron and I that you broke up because you were able to handle less and less _regular life_ -type stuff. Not having a solid job didn’t make it appear any better.”

    “That’s not all my fault,” Harry cut in, defensive.

    “I know that now,” she soothed, “--but receiving your letter was a real shock, how could it have gone so wrong? So I went looking for answers. I’ve been really distracted by my career, and I’m sorry I let your recovery go so long before trying to figure out the best way to support you.”

    “It’s fine, ‘Mione,” he said, face hot. “You don’t have to know everything about _every_ thing.”

    “No, but it helps,” she said, smirking slightly and sitting back in her chair again. “You’re actually not that bad off, are you? I’ve never seen you display some of the symptoms I read about.”

    “No, I’m not,” Harry agreed. “If I’d done better in Auror training and not dropped out and had all that alone time, I might never have delved so deep into my head and surfaced all these issues. Things got harder and harder to confront the longer I was hidden away. But even so, it’s just… low-grade, _constant_ fear. I don’t have panic attacks, or hallucinate during my flashbacks. I've never felt suicidal. I just… always feel like I’ve just gotten caught by McGonagall after sending Norbert off the Astronomy Tower.”

    Hermione gave a quick smile at the mental image. “But things can set it off, make it worse. Like with Ginny.”

    “Yeah. Hermione, what you guys did… it wasn’t right on multiple levels. You let her spy on me. You didn’t let me speak my piece. You… asserted your will over mine. I was surrounded and outnumbered. That took my usual level of fear and turned it up to ‘imminent Death Eater attack.’”

    “I’m so sorry, Harry,” Hermione wailed into her napkin. Harry rocked back, unsure what to do with this hyper-emotional version of his friend.

    “Uh, you okay, Herm?”

    “Don’t call me that,” she laughed wetly. “Yes, I’m sorry. I haven’t had much nausea at all, but I’ve been crying over the stupidest things. I cried yesterday when I saw a cat sleeping in the bookstore because I thought _‘it must have the best life ever.’_ ” She rolled her eyes at herself and Harry felt safe chuckling along. “Just thinking about it now still makes me want to have a good cry, _honestly._ ”

    Harry openly laughed at her disgruntled expression. “Well I hope that means everything is going well, otherwise. Crying is pretty normal, right?”

    Hermione beamed. “My Healer said everything is developing smoothly. The gender reveal charm won’t work until they’re a little bigger of a target in there, but we’ll still be able to find out a few weeks before Muggles would, anyway.”

    “That’s amazing, Hermione.”

    “Thanks, Harry.”

 

 

    “Hermione is pregnant.”

    “Is she?” Sebastian responded from the stove. He had offered to bring the tea and snacks this week, and was currently stirring a mix of fresh leaves and flowers in a saucepan that had the entire kitchen smelling fresh and warm.

    “Yeah, about ten weeks.”

    “I would have thought she would have been too focused on her career to have children so soon.”

    “ _Apparently_ , and I did _not_ want to know this, the Weasley genes prove resilient to contraception potions. Hermione has vowed to seek out alternate methods in the future.”

    “Ew.” Harry laughed loudly at the unexpectedly juvenile response, and Sebastian looked quite pleased with himself as he delivered Harry’s tea. “Try this first before you add your sugar. It’s light enough you might not need two.”

    Harry sipped, enjoying the light, green taste immensely. “That’s very good. Did those plants come from your garden?” He added a single cube from the bowl the other man had placed before him and stirred it in.

    “...Yes,” he responded, still clearly uncomfortable he’d let that personal detail slip.

    “Yum, yum, yum,” Harry hummed happily, tasting his tea with its new addition.

    Sebastian shook his head, but the small smile that bloomed at Harry’s enjoyment couldn’t be hidden. “I hadn't realized you were planning on seeing her.”

    “Mmm, yes, I should have told you Friday, sorry. The theme had taken me a bit aback.”

    “'Chaos,'” intoned Sebastian dramatically, making Harry snicker, and Prince hooted, startled by the noise in the other room. The older man took his hand then and responded more seriously. “You don’t have to feel like you need to tell me everything. That wasn’t a comment _aimed_ at anything, necessarily.”

    Harry gazed at their hands together, and stroked an experimental path across the back of Sebastian's hand with his thumb.

    “People have… warned me that spending time together might end up in you getting hurt,” Harry confessed quietly. “Do you think there’s a possibility that’s true?”

    The hand was withdrawn, and he couldn’t meet the other man’s eyes.

    “It is a possibility, yes,” Sebastian said finally. Harry’s eyes snapped up, but the man’s expression was absolutely unfathomable.

    “You are a remarkably fit young man,” he continued, turning his own face away in discomfort. Harry blushed hotly. He’d lost a lot of muscle tone during his long stints hiding in bed over the previous months, so Sebastian could only mean ‘visually attractive’ when saying ‘fit.’

    “Like you said a few weeks ago, we agree on much, and you weave your tales like Scheherazade. We speak frequently of things with great emotional importance... and when you make my tea it is just the way I prefer.” The man had a dark flush of his own by that point.

    “There is, perhaps, great risk involved.”

    There was something dying, shriveling away in Harry’s chest, but he couldn’t name it if he tried. “I don’t want to lose you as a friend,” he whispered, “but I don’t want you to get hurt either. Especially since I don’t know… you know.”

    Sebastian nodded gravely. “Then perhaps we should consider putting some rules in place.”

    “Rules?” Harry queried, brow knotting in his confusion.

    “To limit the amount we physically touch,” he responded, eyebrow raised. Harry’s face and neck burned anew. “To cut down on jokes which are needlessly… philandrous.”

    “I don’t want to stop seeing you every week,” grumbled Harry, embarrassed but also unsettled by something he couldn't identify. “Don’t put that on the list.”

    “I wouldn’t,” the other man said, and Harry risked a glance up. Sebastian really did seem concerned, and Harry wondered if he should have brought this topic up before... if maybe a small bit of damage was already done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! It's fun editing the old chapters and seeing the character progression again.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron bursts into Harry's apartment and let's him know *exactly* how he feels about his estranged best friend being a shirt lifter. A week later, Harry's firm sense of honor fails him in a vulnerable moment.

# Chapter Eight

 

    The next morning after a fitful night’s rest, Harry finally forced himself to sit down and start penning a letter to the Ministerial Spell Registry. He’d gotten a list of requirements from Hermione, and he drafted his first letter by ticking them off one by one. When he was finished he _still_ felt the letter failed to fully encompass the importance of the spell’s use in the final year of the war and the sacrifice of it’s creator. Still, Harry couldn’t think of anything he would change and so he set to re-writing it in his best handwriting on the finer parchment he’d bought.

    “Hey-o, Prince,” he called to his sleeping owl when he was finished. Slowly, his new friend who he’d come to adore teasing with the toy mice and spoiling rotten during their long days together opened his eyes from the near-vertical slants they’d been and hooted grumpily.

    “I know it’s daytime,” Harry began sympathetically, “but I have an important letter than needs to get delivered to the Department of Spell and Potion Registration, specifically to the Ministerial Spell Registrar. It’s really important to me, do you mind taking it for me?”

    Prince, who had sat up, puffing his chest officiously and hopping from foot to foot during his request, twittered excitedly at receiving his first job since that day in Diagon Alley. He stuck out his leg, poking it out again when Harry did not move fast enough, and grabbed the letter securely in his talons before Harry had a chance to try and tie it properly.

    “One day you’re going to have to let me properly attach those!” Harry called, laughing as Prince disappeared out the open balcony door at top speed. “He’s so crazy,” Harry chuckled to himself fondly.

    Harry didn’t hear back about Snape's spell for another two weeks, during which time Sebastian and he talked through both Harry’s fifth and sixth year of school. Both tellings had their difficulties, but Harry thought if he’d been telling anyone else about sixth year he wouldn’t have gotten through it at all. Sebastian was kind and calm and broke their no-touching rule to help Harry through three separate anxiety swells when Harry insisted on getting it all out and not putting some off for another day. Afterwards, Harry felt trembly and strangely liberated, and Sebastian had stayed late to make sure Harry would be okay.

 

 

    The next night Ron burst out of his floo, stumbling into his coffee table and hollering his name.

    “Harry! Haaarrreeee! Where are you, mate —”

    Harry burst out of his room, wand drawn and robes half on when he stumbled into the fledgling Auror who had been coming to find him. He recoiled away from the burnt-hair smell emanating from his estranged friend, realizing that Ron had gotten so sloshed he’d let his firewhisky burn off the front part of his fringe.

    “There you are, mate,” Ron slurred, leaning on him drunkenly and then pushing away suddenly as if he didn’t want their bodies to touch. Instead, he fell against the hall wall between his room and the bathroom and let it prop him up instead as he glared balefully at Harry.

    “Ron,” he greeted cautiously. “What’s up, mate? Wotcher doing here?” He kept his wand at the ready, but pointed it off to the side as if it was merely out by coincidence.

    “Mate,” Ron said in all seriousness. “Mate.” Suddenly his face crumpled, and he looked like he might cry. “ _Mate.”_

    “Okay,” consoled Harry. “Why don’t you go sit down in the living room and I’ll bring you something to help you feel better, okay?”

    “Yeah, okay.” Harry bit his knuckle so that he didn’t laugh out loud as his friend obediently meandered the short distance back to the living room. His heart had been racing when the yelling had sounded through his dream, but as soon as Ron’s face had changed to such pathetic sadness all the fight-or-flight left him.

    “Here you go,” Harry offered gently, once he’d retrieved the vial of Sober-Up from his medicine cabinet.

    Ron, even in his inebriated state, recognized the distinct Wheezes logo and winced. Still, he held out his hand and knocked it back without complaint. After a moment, he slumped in embarrassment and covered his face in his hands.

    “I’m sorry, Harry,” the man said miserably.

    “For…?” Harry prompted evenly. He crossed his arms and stood back, no longer humoring Ron now that he was sober.

    “For hiding Ginny in the study. For trying to convince you to get back together. For not listening. For showing up drunk at your place just now.” His voice was muffled behind his hands, and Harry was reminded how mumbling was a pet peeve of Sebastian's, but he let it go. It was just him and Ron here right now.

    “Hermione talked to me,” the redhead confessed. “She said… a lot of things.” His hands came down and Harry was surprised to see just how red his face was. Ron clenched his hands in his lap and Harry could see they were shaking with the mental exertion needed to say whatever he was building up to.

    “No one’s going to tell me I can’t be alone with my best mate,” he declared valiantly. “I don’t care if you are… you know… you’re my best friend and we’ve been through it all, haven't we?!”

    “We have,” Harry agreed, eyebrows raised. “Ron, seriously —”

    “No, wait, I gotta get this stuff out. I didn’t know about you and Ginny having problems. I swear I didn’t. I just thought… she’s my baby sister and if she wants to make it up with you, and I thought that you really did love her too, then that’s what was going to happen! I didn’t know she was… was _sleeping_ _around._ ”

    Ron took a moment to choke on the revulsion talking about his sister thusly caused before continuing on. “And I didn’t know you were… you know… _gay,”_ he said, whisper-yelling the offending word as if someone else would hear it in the deep of the night. “And I’m not… I’m not _comfortable_ with that. But if it’s the truth and it’s _you_ then I gotta rethink my priorities, you know? Because _it’s_ _you._ You’re my best friend!”

    Harry was alternately appalled and touched. “I did love Ginny,” Harry admitted calmly. “Before. Then we fell apart... and she made some bad choices… and then some more bad ones on top of that, and then some more that resulted in you guys ambushing me. We might be able to be friends again, but as time goes on I know more and more that I don’t want her as my girlfriend.”

    “Hermione told me you’re still seeing Sebastian,” moped Ron.

    “We’re just friends,” Harry sighed, feeling like he’d had to say those words too many times for them to mean much anymore. “I’m not… I haven’t put much thought into whether I _can_ be into other men.”

    “Harry,” Ron said seriously. “If it's been two months and you still aren’t sure, there’s a good chance you’ll be open to it!”

    “It’s not that simple, Ron,” Harry replied, thinking of Sebastian and his careful rules, and how even the seething anxiety last time had almost been worth it to touch his hand again.

    “Like fuck it isn’t,” groused Ron. “Don't make me convince you of anything. I hate this. But I don’t want to lose you as a friend.”

    Harry’s eyes unexpectedly stung. “We’re alright, mate,” he said thickly. “Why don’t you get on to bed. I’ll catch up with you later, okay?”

    Ron sighed, and stood up. “Alright. I’ve really missed you, mate.”

    “You have no idea,” said Harry with feeling. “Things have gotten really mad around here. Speaking of which, do you know the Chudley Cannons’ Law Wizard? I need someone who can defend the improper use of my imaging rights, or something like that.”

    “ _Tits,_ Harry, sure. Let me write down his info for you.”

    Ron scribbled out:

 

_‘Lawrence Rutherford_

_'Chudley Cannons Management Office_

 

_'working for Manager Ragmar Dorkins — good luck mate!’_

 

    Harry chuckled at the impromptu stick figure and broom Ron drew flying below the note, glad that things between them were at least peaceable even if the redhead still didn't agree with his — admittedly unusual friendship — with Sebastian. “Thanks.”

    “No problem,” Ron said on his way to the fireplace. “By the way, Hermione went to see the Healer again on Saturday.”

    “Oh, yeah? Anything new?”

    Ron beamed, the happiest grin Harry'd seen him make since Hermione had jumped him mid-Battle of Hogwarts. “We're having a girl.”

    “That's brilliant, mate.” They shared a smile, both proud in different ways.

    “Yeah.” Ron rubbed his nose in embarrassment, leaving a sparkly streak with the hand holding the floo powder. “Anyway, best get on, Hermione will get shirty with me if she knows I've been drinking.”

    Harry took a leaf from Sebastian's book by hiding his smile behind his hand and very studiously _not_ looking at his friend's burnt-off hair.

    “Right, see you, Ron. _Incendio.”_

     “Alright, I'll bugger off.” Ron took a deep breath as if steeling himself for whatever lay beyond the crackling flames, and threw in the powder. “Weasley Place!”

    After the last green flare faded, Harry cast a quick _“finite!”_ on the fire. If he cast it quickly enough after having used _incendio_ sometimes the logs hadn't had enough time to foster _real_ flames and it would die out without having to cast a Smothering charm, which had made Harry uncomfortable after seeing the improper use of it on a _person_ as a Trainee. Luckily enough, the fire blinked out and only a few rough ends still glowed. After poking them into submission with his fireplace tools, Harry headed back to sleep, a great deal lighter than before.

    The next morning Harry shared his joy with Healer Matilda. They celebrated his renewed friendship with Ron, and then spoke at length about the new baby girl on the way and Harry’s difficulties feeling like he was making a connection with Teddy. They did a deep dive on lonely moments of his childhood, and Harry left with a renewed urge to give Teddy the things he didn’t have when he was the same age.

    The theme that week was ‘snow day,’ despite the fact that it was the middle of summer. Sebastian continued working on a project from the week before, but Harry painted the joyous memory of scaring the snot out of Malfoy, from third year when he'd snuck into Hogsmeade. Sebastian, recognizing the scene from Harry’s storytelling, simply shook his head in reluctant amusement. The following Monday Harry finished telling Sebastian about what would have been his seventh year and the older man got to hear the complete truth (glossing over the details of the ‘magical artifacts’ they’d chased down) of how the Dark Lord had come to his ultimate end. That time Harry came the closest he’d ever gotten to a true panic attack, and Sebastian had held both his hands in his own to help him defeat it.

    Then, the following Wednesday morning found Harry waking up in the wee hours of the morning from a strange dream where he been about to wet his pants as he waited in line to be Sorted before first year. As soon as he startled awake, experience had him grabbing himself, squeezing hard and holding his breath against the decent chance his nightmare was about to turn into a wet dream. He'd had trouble with low libido since even before he'd caught Ginny cheating — it came along with the slew of other problems his mental condition wrought — but he'd been pretty good at remembering to rub one out every three days, just to keep the nighttime risk down. He cursed himself for skipping the last few, but Healer Matilda’s mentioning of “thinking about” Sebastian had plagued him for weeks and he’d been unable to touch himself out of guilt.

    “Stupid,” he muttered into his pillow once his body calmed and the danger had passed. He rolled out of bed and stumbled to the shower to take care of the problem before he could feel safe enough to head back to sleep.

    He leaned into the tiled corner, yawning tiredly as he absentmindedly stroked his erection, and widening his stance with a grunt when it didn't take him long at all to get to the good part. “Oh, fuuuck…” he moaned when the sensations started ratcheting up, getting closer to release.

    He wasn't handling himself apathetically now, and using his first two fingers and thumb he strove to set that perfect balance between stroke length, just glancing the head, and _not_ tugging too hard on his sensitive skin. It seemed to be working well for him this time, and increasingly raunchy images flitted through his mind as he got closer and closer to what he was searching for.

    Finally at the end, he caught on a specific, intoxicating image he’d sworn not to use. As enraptured as he was with his own pleasure and the strength of the carnal curiosity the image caused, he could not focus his mind on anything else. When he came, biting back the desire to yell, it was to the mesmerizing sight of strong, square fingers holding his hand... and then adventuring _far_ further.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I consider this a turning point in Harry's inability to confront his latent desires. You have been warned--the next chapter things WILL change... but what decisions will he make, and will they be the ones you're hoping for?
> 
> Also--dang, this is another super short chapter, isn't it? I just put the chapter ends where ever I felt like it was appropriate... I should probably go by word count next time, haha.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry makes a big mistake, and almost ruins everything.

# Chapter Nine

 

    “Anyway… that brings me up to meeting you, I guess. The last three years were a lot less exciting than the previous seven, huh.”

    “There’s still more to discover,” disagreed Sebastian. “For example, when we met more than eight months ago you were still dating your ex.”

    Harry visibly flinched. “I’d rather not discuss the details of that, if it’s all the same.”

    “Of course, my apologies.” Sebastian sipped his tea, and Harry mulled over how to ask a question he’d been thinking about for several weeks now.

    “How do people find out whether they’re gay or not?”

    Sebastian’s eyebrows flew up at the unexpected subject change, but he refrained from spewing tea out the way a lesser refined gentleman might have. Instead, he carefully swallowed and contemplated the question seriously. “If someone doesn’t just _know_ from birth the way I did, then perhaps they might analyze how they feel when they look at witches versus wizards. There are some handy mail subscriptions that use moving photos to cater to hetereosexual persons of both genders… this person might utilize the one showing the… hmm, _assets_ of the gender they’re curious about.”

    Harry flushed red-hot, covering his face with his hands. Sebastian’s ultra-cautious use of neutral pronouns clearly indicated he knew the _only_ person currently questioning themselves was Harry. He appreciated the other wizard’s attempt to spare him the embarrassment, but he felt mortified to be caught out anyway.

    “And if the wizard is rather well-known and would be subject to international ridicule if he ordered a copy of… of… a _Play Wizard??”_ he muttered, careful to lift his palms away from his mouth in respect for Sebastian’s issue with mumbling.

    “Then I suppose… they would probably have to go see for themselves in person at a discrete establishment that catered to like-minded individuals.” Sebastian’s reply was a little stilted, and Harry peeked through his fingers to see the other man gripping his mug tightly.

    “I’m not really one to go after strangers,” Harry demurred quietly. Something relaxed in the set of his companion’s shoulders, and Harry felt guilt roiling in his stomach. Were they too close already? But still… he _had_ to ask…

    “What… what if that person had a friend? A friend who he trusted, and was already a little curious ab—”

    “No,” interrupted Sebastian curtly. His blue eyes blazed with sudden ferocity. “If _you_ want answers, Harry Potter, then _you_ will have to find them somewhere else. I’ll not be _used_ in some sort of impulsive, fool-minded, _experiment!”_

    Harry gaped, speechless. Sebastian sat there, tense and glaring for a moment, but then pushed his mug away and shot to his feet, grabbing his robe and stalking to the door with large strides. He scrabbled to follow, tripping over his feet and scrambling along on all fours until he managed to shove back upright.

    “Wait! _Please_ wait, I’m sorry!” Harry nabbed Sebastian’s sleeve just a spare breath away from him opening the door. The short sprint had him breathless, but he was _also_ wide-eyed and panting because he didn’t understand just where he’d gone wrong.

    “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Harry babbled, and Sebastian’s shoulders slumped slightly.

    “I didn’t think you would risk _throwing away our friendship_ so _casually,_ ” husked Sebastian, refusing to turn away from the door. “I thought we were in agreement of the care we need to take to keep _both_ of us safe.”

    Harry kept stammering out apologies and Sebastian sighed, finally turning around to help Harry count back to calmness. “Breathe, one, two, three, four. Hold, one, two, three, four. Out, two, three, four. Harry, I thought… I thought that maybe I was enough. Over the last eight weeks, learning what so few people know about your cares and motivations… I thought you felt that I was worth it, to have shared so much.”

    Harry's chest iced over as he remembered what Sebastian had hesitantly revealed during one of their very first chats. _“I will feel as though you are disrespecting my wishes, or that I, as I am, am not enough.”_ Unwittingly, in propositioning Sebastian for what would amount to a quick fumble, Harry had made him feel like the friendship and support he'd given thus far wasn't enough, that Harry was willing to toss it all to wet his wick in a shallow test.

    “I'm sorry, Sebastian, I really am,” Harry said, voice choked with remorse. They had become so close over the last three months. Harry was _terrified_ that if Sebastian walked out that door now, it would all disappear between them forever. Harry didn't want to be cold strangers again. “I didn't think of it that way, but I can see now it was a bad idea to bring it up. I was only thinking of myself and my own feelings and forgot everything you've told me is important to _you._ Please don't leave, please still be my friend.”

    Sebastian had closed his eyes. The fury was diminished, but his forehead was still creased with anger.

    “I need to cool down, so I'm still going to go. But know this, Harry, whatever quick answers you're looking for won't come from me. You must look elsewhere.” Harry nodded miserably.

    “We may not have an ideal friendship, and we may never be able to make any decisions spontaneously, but I still find it worthsome to spend my hours here with you instead of the myriad of other _safer_ things I could be doing with my time.”

    “I _am_ sorry to put you at risk here... but I also don't want to lose you. I _trust_ you. I've told you things not even my closest friends know. That's why I thought… you were the _only_ one I thought…”

    “Harry.” There was a note of warning in Sebastian's voice. “I have told you clearly that I cannot give more than friendship. The risks are too great. _You_ don't even have a true inkling where your intimate desires lay. I have no desire of putting myself through a no-chance relationship again. I have suffered through grand heartbreak once, and next time I will not settle for less than a lifetime commitment with a _fully_ compatible partner.”

    Harry tilted his head in confusion. “'Grand heartbreak…' I thought you said it was just a romantic relationship.”

    Sebastian regarded him with all patience. “It was strong enough that I hung on to her afterimage for decades. I _will not_ go through that again.”

    “I understand.” He let go of the other man's sleeves, feeling defeated and still a decent amount of guilt.

    “I will see you Friday. Let me know then if you want to continue seeing me.”

    Harry gasped, but the man was already out the door. “I _do!”_ he snapped angrily down the hall. “Haven't you been _listening?!_ ”

    The other man didn't come back to argue some more _or_ placate him so Harry slammed the door and stormed off to stew quietly in bed.

 

 

    Unable to stand the thought of waiting until Friday to vent his spleen, Harry vociferously recounted Sebastian’s parting shot and his own objections to Healer Matilda on Wednesday.

    “Hmm,” she began when he finally gave enough room for her to speak as well. “In our time together you have not revealed much about this man to me, but I gather he is a rather traditional, private sort of wizard, is this so?” Her eyes were firm upon his and Harry knew she had something _very_ specific she was leading up to.

    “Yeah...”

    “I don’t recall you mentioning Sebastian ever taking the time to visit with the other members in your class, for example.”

    Harry frowned. “True.”

    “Even Dean — a wizard with similar tastes to his own — he never spends time with, correct?”

    “Yes.”

    “And you told me just a few weeks ago that you both decided to put rules in place to protect his heart so he could spend _more_ time with you, a maybe-straight person.”

    “Well… _that’s_ … in question…”

    “Did you put the rules in place or not, Harry.” Healer Matilda was done being patient, he could tell.

    “Yes we did.”

    “And not a scant two weeks later you break the agreement you'd made in order to offer yourself like a timid, blushing virgin for his perusal,” she commented, with a wry sarcasm he was _not_ used to from her.

    “Hurk,” he responded eloquently, choking on the tea he’d used to hide his face from the circumspection he’d known was coming. He just hadn’t expected _anything_ as blunt as that.

    “From my outsider’s perspective, it seems reasonable that he would view his relationship with you as a very dangerous pastime, indeed. He already indicated that he found you attractive; he must be taking conscious steps mentally to cultivate only friendship lest his greatest fear come true once again. Not to mention, he has to work through many layers of fear in order to visit the home of a very famous _English_ wizard every single week. In  _your_ suggesting you work out _your_ confusion with _his_ body, he must have felt betrayed, devalued.”

    Harry hung his head, crestfallen. “It’s just… he’s the only man I’ve ever thought about this way. I didn’t mean to make him feel as though I don’t care… it’s that I think I’m starting to care _more…_ in a different way.”

    “Have you told him this? From what you said he seemed to think you were cheapening your friendship by bringing up physicality.”

    “I told him I was… what was it… ‘kinda curious,’ or something like that?” Healer Matilda appeared as if only her extreme professionalism was preventing her from rolling her eyes at him.

    “Well, it seems that rather quickly something has grown between you that Sebastian is unhappy to lose. His parting words lead me to believe he truly thinks you might walk away at any moment. Maybe you should approach your reconciliation in a way that leaves him no doubts to how much you value his friendship, _before_ confessing that you have other things on your mind, as well. He has helped you a lot so far, but you’re not the only one who needs to feel safe.”

    Harry pouted, but agreed, and they changed the subject to the first time Harry could remember becoming angry when he’d not been listened to.

 

 

 _'Do you_ want _to think about it?'_

    Harry whimpered, caught by the strength of his fantasy. He knew that barely a second after he’d ejaculated he would feel horrified guilt at the direction his thoughts had led him on, but now, when he was chasing the sexual Snitch, all he could think about was that deep voice and warm, calloused hands in places they’d never been before.

 _'What would it be like to kiss a man like him?' Healer_  Matilda’s question cut through the noise and with his face pressed into his inner elbow Harry could picture it _so_ well…

    Shamelessly his lips trembled as he pressed a kiss to his own wet skin, taking in water but too far gone to care as he imagined Sebastian _right there…_

 _“Patience, Harry,”_ his memory purred darkly, and Harry’s come splattered against the wet tiles in front of him.

 

 

    Friday’s theme was the vague “purple.” After taking the time to firmly assure Sebastian of Harry's interest in being his friend still, they worked in peaceful — if a bit uncomfortable — silence. Harry’s mind was far off as he worked on painting a small portion of one of Professor Dumbledore’s spangled ceremonial robes. Both Matilda, and later Hermione, had given him a proper list of things to think about in regards to his relationship with Sebastian.

    They were right. The way things were it was out of the question to get answers about where Harry’s interest _might_ lie from the older man. If Harry wanted to take drastic steps to figure out who, exactly, he was turning out to be, he needed to seek out someone who had less to guard against.

    So, after class when he’d re-extended the normal invite to Sebastian, he marched himself straight over to the only other gay wizard he knew.

    “ _Muffliato._ Dean, I have a question for you.”

    “Uh, sure, Harry what’s up?” He seemed taken aback by the intense focus Harry had marched up with, and he tried to consciously relax his features before rushing out the next part.

    “Would you go out with me sometime?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Desperate bi-curious boys call for desperate... *help.*
> 
> Also, what Harry mentioned "not one to go after strangers" can be considered a core facet of demisexuality. In my opinion in the books Harry has shown signs that he might be somewhat demisexual and in this story I've kept that in mind.


	10. Chapter 10

# Chapter Ten

 

    “I went out with Dean to a Muggle gay bar.”

    Sebastian’s mug returned to the table with a loud ‘ _clunk,’_ and the glaring wizard clenched the edge of the table with two wide-spread hands. “Did you.”

    Harry observed the light burning in the other man’s eyes, secretly hoping he wasn’t imagining the jealousy there.

    “You said to find answers elsewhere, so I did.”

    The table beneath his fingers creaked in warning.

    “And did you find what you were looking for?” His voice had deepened, but it was nowhere near the same sultry purr as “The Voice” which had started Harry’s confusion.

    “No,” complained Harry. “Or at least… it left me with many more questions that now need their own answers.”

    “Questions I’m sure young Dean will only be too happy to answer for you.” His voice was definitely bitter now. For all their talk of rules and avoiding romantic entanglement, Sebastian was clearly unhappy at the thought of Harry filling those needs elsewhere, as _he himself_ had demanded.

    The next question that he burned to ask: _‘And if I let him?’_ Harry swallowed back down. Sebastian, with his reaction, had just given him all the answers that he needed. The only ones that really mattered. Those answers told him that continuing on in that antagonizing vein would just be cruel. He decided to come fully clean, instead.

    “Dean and I went as friends,” Harry said, speaking softly and doing his best to ignore the fear prickling his arms and legs. His hands were already shaking in anticipation of the confession to come so he gripped his hot mug tightly, using the painful heat to regain control.

    “He even brought a childhood friend of his, a straight Muggle who was also coming into a gay club for the first time. That guy, Eric, he wasn't curious like me. He even wore a shirt proclaiming that he was a 'straight ally' so that he wouldn't send mixed signals to other men while we were there. Apparently Dean had gotten it for him so that they could attend some sort of festival together, but Eric had chickened out.”

    Harry could feel the other man's hard eyes on him, and made a conscious effort to lift his head and stare right back. “Dean took the ‘mission’ very seriously. He brought Eric so we could compare against each other how we felt about being there. About seeing the things we did.”

    Sebastian's expression remained unchanged except for a tiny furrowing of his brow. Encouraged by the sign his companion was listening intently, Harry continued on in the same pace that he'd practiced in the mirror the day before.

    “When we looked at couples dancing, Eric said he didn't feel much of anything, but that he also felt like he was uncomfortable looking at them for too long. When Dean pointed out two people that were kissing, Eric looked away quickly and said that he felt a little grossed out by how… _exuberant_ they were. And when… when Dean pointed out a few couples with a large age gap like ours…”

    Sebastian’s hands tightened on the table anew. "I don't care to talk about this _Eric_ all night long.”

    Harry continued as if he hadn’t spoken. He was on a roll, too deep in remembering his own epiphany to stop. “— he disapproved. He didn’t see how it could possibly work, that a relationship like that could ever be on remotely even-footing — he said that on a typical day he would just wish them well and be done with it. He was just being totally honest with Dean and I, because I needed a no-holds-barred internal monologue to compare my own to.”

    Harry took a deep breath, knowing he was getting to the part that would be the hardest to confess. “After a while, a couple blokes came up to us, and asked either Dean or I to dance. Dean encouraged me to go each time —” Harry’s table cracked out an alarm again, “but I _couldn’t.”_

    Harry met the older wizard’s eyes beseechingly. “Seeing the couples kiss, and dance… it wasn’t uncomfortable or gross to me. I felt _excitement._ It was like I had finally found a place where I was completely me, even if I haven’t done anything other than _sit there_ yet. I didn’t feel like I had to run somewhere, _anywhere_ else, because everything I had been looking for was right there.”

    A flash of something that looked worrisomely like pain flashed across his friend’s eyes, but Sebastian didn’t look away. He seemed almost resigned, now, and sad, and Harry knew he wasn't thinking the same way about the outing that Harry had. Maybe it was time to get to the point.

    “The reason… the reason I turned down all of the people who asked me to dance… was _you,_ Sebastian.”

    The older man's eyes widened and lips thinned, as if he was preparing to defend himself against whatever nefariousness Harry was blaming him for.

    “The way Muggles dance in their clubs, it is _entirely_ different to what I am used to from wizarding balls,” Harry admitted, wincing. “It is too close, too crude, too _sexual._ Sebastian —” and here he reached out for his companion’s tense hand, holding onto it like it might be snatched away at any moment, "I didn’t want to dance like that with them because the only person I could think about was you. The careful, kind of… methodical way you hold yourself, and sitting here talking about my deepest fears and counting my breaths with you... I couldn’t stand the thought of them touching me so _invasively_ because… somewhere along the way…” Sebastian removed his hand from Harry’s and covered his eyes, and Harry panicked, thinking he was being shut out and he hadn’t been able to convey the most important part yet.

    “I know you said you struggle with not feeling like you are enough,” Harry pressed quickly, “but for me, you are… you're… I just want _everything._ We were afraid for you, so we put in place rules, but what even _I_ didn’t know was that bit by bit I’d already ‘ _fallen’_ into danger myself.”

    Of _course_ he couldn’t keep it together. Of _course_ his voice would crack and his eyes would sting like hellfire when Sebastian finally uncovered his face and peered back at him.

    “This is not an eventuality I saw coming,” the man said finally, completely even-toned.

    “Even so, now that you know how I… feel, could you ever imagine something between us? Not a fling. Not experiments. Not just... romance. Something real. Eventually. The _compatibility_ you mentioned last time.”

    Sebastian shook his head in the negative, but his gaze was lost and a little lonely, and Harry held his breath in fear and hope. “I can’t,” he said, in a voice just above a whisper. “With the way things are,” he continued, tugging on the pocket where Harry knew his Polyjuice lay, “I couldn’t imagine crossing that line for _anything_ other than the promise of a lifetime commitment. I couldn’t. I… I should go.”

    “No, please, don’t run again,” begged Harry. “It doesn’t have to be like that, right now. We can keep our rules in place just as they are.”

    “Then what’s the _point?!”_ Sebastian exploded. “What’s the point of torturing ourselves, close but never touching? And for how long? Forever?”

    Harry’s breath caught at the first hint that Sebastian himself might find not touching _him_ painful.

    “To proceed carefully,” Harry answered, voice so strangled it couldn’t even be called a whisper. “Friends, who recognise there’s something more underneath. Keeping our distance, but working towards understanding each other. Sebastian, I want that  _so much.”_

    “I will _never_ let it go further than friendship until _both_ of us agree the other is ‘it’ for life.” Sebastian finally croaked. “You’ve… caught my eye too. I can say that. But ‘noticing’ someone is nowhere _near_ the type of certainty I would need to tie my life —  _my security — _to theirs. Even _love_ would not be enough.”

    “I understand,” Harry said shakily. His whole body quivered with nerves and burgeoning hope. “I know there are a lot of things I still need to figure out. I don’t know… how anything works. I’m at a stage right now where a relationship might not be the best thing for my recovery. But it’s enough, right now, to know that you know… and that you don’t think I am ruining everything.”

    Sebastian lifted his head wearily. “You’re not ruining everything,” he said gently, and Harry’s tense middle warmed at the familiar comforting tone that he had sorely missed since he’d messed up a week ago. “But everything _will_ change now. There’s no going back from this conversation. We will always know, no matter how brief it may potentially be, that we once held each other’s interest. No future conversation will ever be interpreted the same again.”

    Harry felt the weight of his words. Everything _would_ change. Harry was both excited and terrified, and he didn’t know which emotion was strongest.

 

 

    “Wow, that’s quite a big deal! Congratulations, Harry!” commended Matilda two days later.

    “He left, right after,” admitted Harry. “He was really unsettled and said he needed to think about it before he would make any decisions. He said he still might walk away from our friendship, too, if he thought it was the right thing to do.”

    “And how does it make you feel, that he could very well do that?”

    “Scared,” Harry responded. “Helpless. I can’t change his mind, and I want to give him the proper space he needs. There's nothing left for _me_ to work with.”

    “From what I could tell, going forward not much would change — even if he does accept, or return your feelings.”

    “Yeah,” Harry said, nodding. “I’m not ready for anything beyond what we’ve already been doing as friends, to be honest. Just… once I realized that he fascinated me I _had_ to let him know.”

    “Honesty is very important to you. I saw that for myself when you came in, broken, after recently catching Ginny with another.”

    “Call it Gryffindor brashness,” Harry joked, ignoring what she’d said about his ex. “Once we have a tiny slice of information, we blindly tread forward with it.”

    “I think your decision to ‘tread’ more slowly here is a wise one. I don’t think it is a good idea to rush in right now. Your progress in here has been nothing short of amazing, but there are still a lot of work to be done, _especially_ when it comes to choosing healthy relationships.”

    “Yes, you’re right,” Harry agreed simply.

    “— But, moving forward, if you like, I can offer you advice on any conflicts that arise as you work things through with Sebastian. It won’t be as thorough as if you attended together as a couple, but I would love to help you both learn how to communicate your needs effectively and empathetically. There will be many challenges for a coupling such as this.”

    “I would really appreciate that,” Harry breathed, sitting forward eagerly. “Ginny and I had _so_ many problems; I would love not to go through any of that again.”

 

 

    When Harry walked through the gallery to the back where Dean’s studio was, his eyes immediately searched out Sebastian. It seemed like the older man had been waiting to see him as well, but he jerked his spectacled gaze away as if embarrassed to have been caught at it.

    “Welcome, Jeromey, you’re just in time,” Dean greeted, using Harry’s alias. He nodded and hurried over to his station as Dean continued, “The theme for this week is a rather light one. I would like you all to focus on the idea of 'hope.' What does hope mean to you? What does it look like? What do you hope for? As always, I am around if you need help with anything at all.”

    Harry peeked over at Sebastian, but the other man was firmly avoiding his gaze, working on the same painting for the third week in a row. It was coming along very nicely, incredibly beautiful already, but Harry was a little disappointed he wouldn’t get to see what his friend would have painted for this theme especially.

    For his own painting… Harry chewed his lip, tried to catch Sebastian’s gaze again, and then when he failed, set up the privacy charm. It wouldn’t come down this time until the very end. His painting idea was more revealing than most.

    When Harry had done the imaging spell and began painting with the privacy spell still up, he could tell Sebastian had finally turned his attention away from his own work, to his station. Regretfully, Harry kept working without pause, wanting to complete the busy scene before the end of the session.

    It was difficult, tight detailed work and Harry’s hands were shaking with the important message he was trying to send with it. He needed to compare his paints to the the grayscale and color charts constantly to get the dark scene’s colors just right, which left him ducking and bobbing in and out of the shield like a nutter.

    At the bottom corner, when the session had been called to a close, he wrote “HOPE” at the bottom, in the same color he’d used for the neon lights above the dance floor. When he canceled the shield, Sebastian was already waiting impatiently, arms crossed and face distinctly grumpy.

    That look fell off his face the moment he’d caught sight of the lovers on Harry’s canvas. He’d painted one of the age-gap couples from his visit to the bar in hopes that Sebastian would see it and recognise Harry’s own ‘hope’ for them. The moment painted wasn’t a raunchy one, nor had Harry changed anything about the Muggles to make them resemble himself or Sebastian. It was a warm moment, captured truthfully, of the younger of the two resting peacefully against his older boyfriend. The warmth on both of their faces spoke multitudes, and Harry was glad he hadn't botched that part especially.

    He definitely hadn’t expected the sudden, violent slash of Sebastian’s wand as he silently Vanished Harry’s work.

    “I was going to keep that one!” he protested, but it was to the other man’s back as he was yet _again_ fleeing the scene.

    Not wanting to cause a commotion, Harry followed as sedately as he could, but once he was out the gallery doors he called out loudly for his runaway companion.

    “Sebastian! Sebasti-ah!” Firm hands pulled him into the alley between the gallery and the next shop over. Harry, fought, but whoever had him was disillusioned and Harry couldn’t counter the firm hold if his life depended on it.

    “ _Hope?_ ” the other body questioned him heatedly, and Harry stopped protesting with a gasp as he realized just who had him in their grip.

    “Sebastian!” he gasped, finding it hard to focus even _with_ his panic fading.

    “Breathe, my Harry,” the older man purred against his ear warmly.

    “Se- _Seb,_ ” moaned Harry, then blushed _furiously_ at the broken way it had come out. Now that he had stopped fighting, leaning limply against the alley wall, Sebastian had stopped touching him at all, but his breath on Harry’s neck and the heat of his body so close had Harry worked up enough to try and squirm closer.

    “Is this the reaction you wanted?” Sebastian whispered against his skin, and Harry wished so dearly that he would come close enough to actually _touch_ his neck with those lips. _Knowing_ he was so close without actual contact was physically painful. “When you painted those men, were you trying to goad me into this?”

    “Just wanted… to show you my heart,” whimpered Harry. “But… this is… too _much — _I'm not ready _..._ ”

    Sebastian backed off, still invisible except for the slight displacement around the edges of his form. Disoriented, Harry tried to search out his eyes, but couldn’t place their exact position across the distance.

    “Why… why did you do that?” Harry’s throat closed around a lump of dismay as he realized what the other man's intention had been. “I _told_ you to talk to me. Why are you testing me again?” He was aroused and confused, panicky and devastated, and the sexy closeness had just been a ruse.

    “I don’t understand how you could want me.”

    Harry’s heart stuttered in his chest at the unexpected honesty shining through the other man’s tone. Maybe being invisible had given him courage because Harry had never heard his voice come through so plainly, without his usual modulated control.

    “After the first _proposition_ I thought for sure you didn’t value our friendship. And then last Monday you told me you’d gone _hunting_ and then I thought for sure you felt no connection to me, specifically. But then _you…”_ Sebastian cleared his throat and Harry felt tears building up in response to the rare, real emotion in his typically reserved friend’s voice.

    “How can you offer me exactly what I want… exactly the way I need it to feel safe? How can you spend three hours painting a couple that looks  _just like us_ and have it _not_ be a manipulation tactic?”

    “I’m sorry for making you feel that way —”

    “ _You_ didn’t _,”_ Sebastian interrupted passionately. Harry could see an outline lifting, but the hand never made the contact needed to wipe away his tears. “This is… all on me. I am sorry for accosting you.”

    “I didn’t mind at the time,” Harry replied drily, cheeks heating as he realized that his erection--which had begun reacting the moment he’d realized it was Sebastian standing so close — had continued hardening fully while they chatted. He shifted his stance minutely, attempting to encourage it into a more hidden position without Sebastian noticing. “But… I really _am_ not ready for that kind of thing yet.”

    “I didn’t believe you.”

    “Because you… how did you say it? You don’t understand how I could want you? I guess enough to… proceed slowly with you?”

    A slight jiggling in the air told Sebastian had nodded.

    “It’s too soon for this,” whispered Harry, hands on his cheeks. “I don’t fully know why. I think about you when you’re not there. I find myself wishing we met up more often than once a week. I remember things you’ve said when I’m around other people and it makes me smile. I’ve thought about you when I… when I… _I can’t say.”_ Harry covered his face. In his pants, his pelvis and persistent length heated warmly in response to the truth he wasn't brave enough to share.

    Sebastian cleared his throat awkwardly. “I… understand. I’m sorry I pushed. I felt that… it could only be a trick. I can see now… I was a fool.”

    Despite his self-castigation, his voice was filled with a certain amount of awe.

    “I’m really embarrassed,” Harry mumbled, forgetting to uncover his mouth and speak clearly. Luckily, the other man didn't notice or didn't care this time.

    “I _am_ sorry. You have… given me hope. If we were to start class over, I would have... adequate inspiration.”

    “Can we calm this thing down again? Go back to getting to know each other like before? I _still_ don’t want to _fuck this up,_ ” Harry pleaded, quoting himself from before their very first meeting to show Sebastian how long he’d been taking them seriously.

    “Yes, of course. May I still come over for tea on Monday? I’ll make the tea and bring the snacks again.”

    “Yes, please,” agreed Harry easily, feeling the tension seep down through his feet to the Earth below. “Please bring more of the caramel pastries those were _good.”_

    Sebastian chuckled, apparently feeling the mood lift as well. “I will. Before I leave… may I be bold just one more time before adhering to my rules?”

    Harry regarded his outline suspiciously. “Er… maybe. Sure?”

    Sebastian’s body drew close, and that same warm breath passed by his neck again. “ _Think_ of me again tonight,” he murmured against his ear, using the most stupefying version of “The Voice” yet.

    Then, before Harry could absorb the full implications or squeak out a mortified reply, the crack of his Disapparation sounded, setting Harry’s heart pounding for an altogether _less_ pleasant reason.

    “I should really tell him I don’t react well to loud noises,” Harry grumbled, rubbing his tender ears gently. “That was so _close!”_


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry obeys Sebastian's command, and a familiar problem becomes more pressing in intensity.

# Chapter Eleven

    Despite the abrupt fear that had swamped over any warm fuzzies after Sebastian's percussive exit, later that night when safe at home and giddily replaying the agreement they’d come to Harry felt himself _dearly_ wishing to obey the older man's parting demand. He’d always been so careful not to wank to anyone on purpose… only getting swept away at the very end when his usual morals were far from the surface.

    He felt both excitement and nervousness as he created a special little nest of pillows on his bed to do the deed. Sebastian would never know how _girly_ he’d been about it, so he undressed and snuggled in unselfconsciously — it was as comfortable as he could make it. He still had some old Muggle lube that Ginny had hated — breathe _, two, three, four. NOT right now, two, three, four — _and he warmed it in his hands before shyly taking himself in hand.

    What did one think about, when they had someone in mind from the very beginning? Usually Harry was beset with intrusive images near the end, but now he was calm and his mind was open. _‘Think of me again tonight,’_ he replayed purposefully, recalling the warm puffs against his throat and the screaming desire for just _one_ touch.

 _That_ image was working pretty well. He appreciated the way with both hands properly lubed he could slide through them without worrying about too much friction. In fact--he tightened his grip and pumped his hands down more aggressively, bringing up the moment Sebastian had pulled him into the alley and then imagining being pushed against the wall in an entirely different scenario.

    “Yep, yep,” celebrated Harry as imaginary Sebastian stuck a hand down his pants, and he changed his grip to better emulate what his imaginary lover was doing. “I wanna touch you too,” he muttered to his empty bedroom, and pictured his fantasy self holding _Sebastian’s_ cock as well. It was interesting enough, but it wasn’t until Harry added in The Voice murmuring encouragements that Harry really got carried away with the dream.

    “Yes, yes,” he hissed, imagining similar sentiments coming from his imagined paramour. Arousal shot through his core, a lightning strike through his dick from deep in his belly. As his slick hands worshipped his flesh, goosebumps broke over his arms and neck and he surely felt he was descending into some kind of sex-madness.

    “That's it, go crazy. Tell me you love it. Tell me you — ahhhgh, _go, go, go..._ ah-hah-hah-ha — _fuck_ _._ Whew.”

    Harry collapsed back onto his carefully stacked cushions, blinking and boneless after an orgasm so agonizingly good that it had almost felt _sharp._

    “Thank you, Seb,” he cheered dizzily, holding a slimy, curled hand up towards the ceiling as if toasting the wizard with a champagne flute. “I may never move again.”

 

 

    The next morning Harry attended his self-care strictly, wanting to negate the slight twinge of guilt from his actions the night before. It had been thrilling when Sebastian's permission had rung so recently in his mind, but he'd awoken from indistinct dreams feeling despicable and deeply shamed. He'd lightened the load considerably by meditating on the various ways Sebastian had indicated his interest, but he took the extra time in scrubbing and feeding his body to continue convincing himself he was worth something.

    He was just finishing up his scrambled eggs and bangers when an unfamiliar voice rang through his living room.

    “Hello! Floo call for Mr. Harry Potter!” it said.

    Harry left his plate on the table and approached his fireplace cautiously. He'd never received a call from someone he didn't know before.

    A balding, but kindly looking head sat in the green coals. “Er… hullo,” he greeted warily.

    “Good morning, Mr. Potter. I _am_ sorry to disturb you on a nice Saturday such as this. I was hoping to into introduce myself in person. I am Lawrence Rutherford. I do law work for Ragmar Dorkins, we've corresponded?”

    “Oh,” responded Harry, cottoning on. “Well met, then, good morning.”

    “If you _do_ have some time, I think I've been able to gather enough information to give you my preliminary report, and then we can discuss where to go from there.”

    “I'd love to,” Harry replied honestly. “I have a dinner this evening but I am free before then. Or, free again tomorrow, but in the morning or late evening instead.”

    “My family won't mind me taking an hour or two this morning, would you like to step through now?”

    “Um…” Harry flicked his wand in the direction of the kitchen and waited to hear his dish and pan successfully washing themselves. “Yes, all taken care of.”

    Rutherford chuckled and made room for Harry to step through the active connection. Harry'd never traveled while someone's _head_ was at his feet, and he did his level best not to step on the other man as various fireplaces flashed by his eyes on the journey. On arrival Rutherford had already pulled away and was not at risk of Harry stumbling all over him.

    “Never flooed quite like that before,” Harry commented.

    “Sorry about that. My address is unlisted to avoid irate fans besieging my private home when their favorite player doesn't get re-signed. It takes a little finagling to bring people through since I can't tell them the address, but being careful has kept my wife and children safe so far. I see no reason to stop. _I_ was rather surprised to successfully find your address. I would have thought you would have taken yourself off.”

    “I didn’t know it was possible,” Harry said, admiring Rutherford’s large but not ostentatious floo room.

    “Well, we can definitely fix that. Shall we head to my study? The children will be back in for breakfast soon and we don’t want to deal with their muddy ‘good mornings.’” he said amiably.

    “Sure.”

 

 

    “So, tell me, Harry. Was his house huge? Did you see anyone famous? _Was_ _Gordon Horton_ _there?!”_

    “You know you’re technically more famous than a silly Quidditch player now, right?” Hermione countered Ron’s excitement with dry amusement. She seemed to be feeling much more emotionally stable this far into the dinner.

    Ron seemed like he didn’t know whether to preen or argue, and Harry laughed.

    “It was just Rutherford,” replied Harry, shaking his head. “His house was nice, but nowhere near as crazy as the Malfoys’. We went right to his office, which I rather liked. He had a couple of framed shirts and stuff but the orange didn’t _overpower,_ if you know what I mean.”

    Hermione shot him a greatly amused look, but Ron remained stoic. “I haven't the foggiest what you mean.”

    “How _did_ the meeting go, Harry?” Hermione asked when the giggles had died down.

    “Not well,” Harry replied morosely. “I don’t have the funds to pursue litigation, and he doesn’t think we have a good chance at being awarded damages because it turns out money _was_ handed over to the Dursleys at some point. It’s just sitting in Gringotts, collecting dust, but it’s not in my name due to — what I feel is — completely unfair exploitation laws.”

    With a flash of her wand, some parchment and quill appeared next to Hermione’s plate, and she began scribbling notes to herself as Ron wrinkled his nose in disgust.

    “It doesn’t surprise me that they tried to profit off you, mate, but I can’t imagine them being okay with the money just sitting there like that.”

    “Rutherford wasn’t able to locate any _legal_ documents regarding the agreement, but he did say Gringotts had an unofficial _explanation_ of the terms with the vault application, and that it’s possible the Dursleys didn’t realize the account would be opened for them, since they are Muggles.”

    “So it’s possible they entered into an agreement that promised money in exchange for using your name, but then they never received a single English penny for it.” Hermione looked at Harry in sympathy. “I bet that must not have made them very happy. They _did_ seem rather greedy.”

    Harry snorted at the understatement.

    “I had to pay quite a bit today for his time,” confessed Harry uncomfortably. “He agreed to send out cease-and-desist letters, and look into the _possibility_ of having the vault ‘transferred to my custody’ but that’s as far as today’s payment will take him.”

    Hermione and Ron glanced at each other worriedly. Harry knew they were thinking about offering to help but he also knew they had been working hard to grow their finances, both having started with absolutely nothing and now preparing for their baby on the way.

    “It’ll be alright,” Harry cut in quickly. “I’ve been sending out more job applications and I think I might downsize into a smaller apartment, anyway. Paying less rent will be a huge boon, and I was actually excited when I applied to some of the places.”

    Hermione placed a hand on his, and tugged at it lightly when he still avoided her eyes.

    “Harry, don’t move out yet. You already had to sell Grimmauld and... well, I can’t say anything specific, but please don’t make any sudden decisions. I may have… something, but I need to get permission before I say any more about what it might be, okay?”

    “Yeah, mate, I don’t know what she’s talking about but I’m sure it will all work out. You’re Harry Potter.”

    Harry fought the urge to roll his eyes at his male friend--being _Harry Potter_ didn’t solve hardly _anything —_ and focused on the pleading determination shining out of Hermione’s eyes.

    “Alright, ‘Mione,” he relented. “I’ll wait. I just… don’t have forever.”

    “I’ll get back to you as _soon_ as I can,” she promised. “Monday morning I’ll talk to who I need to, I swear it.”

 

 

    “So, now I’m waiting for what? I don’t even _know,_ meanwhile the image of the few coins left at the bottom of my vault is burnt into my brain every time I open my eyes in this place,” Harry groused to Sebastian Monday afternoon.

    “Your friend mentioned she would speak to this mysterious other party this morning,” reminded Sebastian. “Perhaps there is a job opening she knows of in the Ministry, and they will reach out to _you_ soon.”

    Harry grimaced. “If so, I will take it… but I’ve had a hard time the few times I went to speak at the Trials. I think that, two years later and my condition is worse… it may be a difficult place to be… for _hours_ every day.”

    Sebastian nodded slowly. “Perhaps if it _is_ a Ministry position you should take a few trips strategically before your first day of work. If something difficult arises you will have time to work it out with your Healer.”

    “A very good idea,” he commended the other man fondly. A faint shade of color appeared on Sebastian's cheeks, but he sipped his tea as if nothing was amiss. Harry’s litigation consult and subsequent visit to his friends’ had given them the perfect ice breaker. The first few minutes before Harry had brought up Rutherford had been _painfully_ awkward, as neither one know how to navigate their purposefully distant new relationship.

    “I am worried, though,” Harry confessed. “I really do feel it every time I look at this place. I don’t have much time left before I can’t pay rent. Maybe another two months, tops.”

    When his breath began to catch in his chest, Sebastian took his hand, the first touch all evening. “It will be alright,” he assured in that deep calm voice that left no room for alternatives. “You have your friends, you have your nephew’s caretaker, you even have a crazy ex-girlfriend who would _love_ to put you up.”

    “No, _thank_ you,” he scowled, shuddering.

    Sebastian’s thumb glided across his hand. “I am sorry I cannot offer you a place in my home.”

    “It’s alright,” Harry replied earnestly, squeezing back. “Even if you weren’t… in hiding, I’m really not ready for that kind of leap.”

    “Even so.” Sebastian cleared his throat and changed the subject. “I admit feeling some amount of glee that your horrible relations are sitting on a pile of gold, having no inkling exists. If your Law Wizard comes back saying there’s no way to transfer it to you, will you _tell_ them it’s there?”

    Harry crooked a smirk at the vengeful delight in his friend’s eyes. “As pleasant as it would be to tell them they have tons of money they could never hope to reach deep in the wizarding world, I have no intention of ever seeing them again. I send my cousin a shallow Christmas letter every year… that’s quite enough.”

    Sebastian nodded, remembering when Harry had told him about Dudley’s surprising show of acceptance in the beginning of his ‘seventh year’ tale. “I suppose your partially-redeemed cousin wouldn’t be eligible to receive the money as it currently is, anyway.”

    “Right, only my Aunt and Uncle were listed on the form,” agreed Harry.

    After a brief pause Sebastian hesitantly began a new conversation, telling Harry about a moving-landscape commission that was giving him trouble. Harry curiously asked questions about the animating process, where Sebastian was currently struggling, and they managed to successfully hop from topic to related topic without drama until it was time for the older wizard to leave.

    As he stood by in the entry hall, waiting for Sebastian to finish buttoning his outer robe, he began to feel downcast again. The other wizard’s presence had helped lift his spirits for the past few hours. When he left, Harry would be alone in the home he couldn’t afford once more.

    “It will be alright,” the taller wizard consoled him gently. Unexpectedly, he reached out for Harry’s hand and pulled him in for a feather-light hug.

    Cautiously, Harry put his arms around the other man as well, and when he decided that it felt quite nice, he leaned into the embrace, squeezing more firmly.

    “Wait for your friend to get back to you,” Sebastian murmured into his hair. “I am a generally pessimistic wizard, but in this case I do not believe she will let you down.”

    “Okay,” Harry said into his shoulder. Sebastian smelled good. Not like food or plants, but a slight hint of the paint he’d used that morning and a musky male scent that tickled his nose pleasantly. He nuzzled in a little deeper, feeling a contented warmth spread through his chest.

    “Alright,” Sebastian said finally. “I should go. If you hear back from your friend before Friday, please send me an update. I am unen _duringly_ curious as to what it could be.”

    Harry chuckled as he pulled back, making his promise with a wide smile. Sebastian himself seemed in good spirits as he finally opened the door and left the apartment.

 _“Harry.”_ A red blur stomped past Sebastian and barged right through his open door. Harry backed up in horror, and caught sight of Sebastian’s appalled expression as Ginny slammed the door in his face.

    “What the hell, Ginny!” he gasped, outraged. “I told you to leave me _alone!_ I’ll give you a clue, _this is not leaving me alone!”_

    “How long was he here?” the irate witch demanded, ignoring his protests completely. “How long did you have that man in our home?”

    Harry stammered, flabbergasted beyond speech, before finding his tongue. “ _Our_ home? Ginny, we broke up _seven months_ ago, and you  _fi_ _nally_ left _six_ months ago. This is not _‘our’_ anything!”

    “This unhealthy obsession _has_ to stop Harry.” Ginny’s eyes were firm on his, and the creepiest thing of it all was that she didn’t _look_ crazy in the slightest while speaking like a total nutcase.

    “...What?” he responded blankly.

    “Your _obsession with older men_ has _got_ to stop!” she insisted. “I couldn’t _believe_ it when they showed me the lovesick writeup you did for Snape’s spell today. Quit _blubbering_ over Snape! Yes, he died, and it's sad, but you need to _get_   _over_ him--and Sirius and Lupin too! And this, _this_ is going _too far,_ Harry. You need to come back to reality. They are gone. Sticking your _ass out_ for the first older guy that pays attention to you _won't bring them back!”_

    “Get out.” Harry said flatly.

    “No, Harry, you need to listen. You need to come _back_ to me. Ron told me you were having money problems —” Somewhere in the apartment a tinkling crack sounded. “— I can _help_ you. We were _meant_ for each other, it’s time for you to put all this behind us and _stop_ spending your time with that _dirty old man!”_

    More cracks sounded, and a black-sleeved arm took a firm grasp of Ginny’s arm and hauled her out the door. “That’s quite enough of that,” Sebastian’s cold voice warned.

    Ginny was unceremoniously shoved from the apartment and the door shut in _her_ face this time. Sebastian sealed the door with a _“colloportis!”_ and another spell that Harry didn’t recognize —  _"intrusor refuto!" — _that turned the door a sickly shade of green before fading.

    “Stupid bint,” the older man muttered darkly. The doorknob rattled and a yelp sounded, and Sebastian grinned, showing all his teeth.

    Harry vehemently agreed with his assessment, but then another cracking glassware sounded and he refocused his efforts to calm down.

    “Breathe,” murmured Sebastian helpfully. “I was waiting outside — hold, you’re doing great — to make sure you would be okay — let it out, all the way — and I came as soon as I realized your magic was escaping. Breathe in… I apologise if I overstepped.”

    Harry waved him off, anger easily fading in the face of Sebastian’s honest concern. He sighed out his last breath, shaking the tension out of his arms

    “You alright?” Sebastian reached out a hand, but then swiftly let it drop before Harry could move to grab onto it.

    “Yeah, that wasn’t anxiety, I was just super pissed,” Harry assured him. “I still am. _Merlin,_ where does she get off? _‘It’s time to put this past us!’_ Bitch, you _just_ forced your way into my home!”

   “Harry,” Sebastian said reprovingly.

    He winced. “Not your writing style?” he asked lightly.

    “Quite. Though, I did call her a ‘bint’ as well, so I’m not sure I am any better. Not to detract from your completely justified reaction.”

    “No, I get it. I don’t really want to be that nasty-mouthed kind of man, anyway. It's too easy to go there — my uncle. Did you hear anything she said?”

    “Only after I heard the spy-hole glass break and opened the door.”

    “She doesn’t speak for me. Or for you. The things she said mean nothing at all.”

    Sebastian sighed. “It is not the worst I’ve heard. And I’m sure it won't be the last. Are you _sure_ you want to be gay?”

    Harry laughed, like he knew he was supposed to. “I _definitely_ want to see where this leads. Crazy… witches aside.” Then, he sobered. “She said Ron told her about my money problems.”

    “You should probably ask him about it. Now, when he’s probably just sat down to dinner.”

   “Hah-hah, you’re devious, Seb.”

    “I like that name. You called me that the other night, too.”

    Harry flushed, remembering _another,_ more afterglow-y time he’d also used it. “Your full name is so long that I find myself not saying it at all.”

    “Well, as long as you don’t expect me to call you ‘Har’ I don’t mind it.” A warm smirk played around the older wizard’s mouth.

    Harry laughed at the awful nickname. “ _Never_ , _"_  Harry assured him, grinning.

    “Go disturb your friend’s dinner. I’ll see you Friday?”

    “As always,” Harry confirmed with a sigh. It seemed so far away. _He_ wouldn’t mind seeing the other wizard even as soon as the very _next_ day.

    Sebastian drifted his fingers across Harry’s cheek in farewell, then was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not very good at writing villians, but I hoped I did well enough portraying a Ginny who's swiftly approaching the end of her rope.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Ron talk, Harry and Seb talk, and Harry and... Hermione's work acquaintance talk.

# Chapter Twelve

    “I don’t understand, how would she find out about getting _muffliato_  registered?” Ron protested.

    “Experimental Charms often works with the Spell Registry when they complete a project,” Hermione informed him. “But _that’s_ not what Harry asked you, _is_ it?”

    Ron gulped in the face of her potential ire.

    “I was trying to convey to her that you were determined to take care of yourself,” he said quickly, eyes darting to his girlfriend's stern face. “I told her you were doing fine, even while making hard decisions about your house — I mean apartment. I never thought she’d take what I said to use it against you, I swear!”

    Ron looked as poleaxed as Harry had felt just a few minutes earlier when Ginny was mid-row. Harry believed his friend.

    “It seems like Ginny is not handling the breakup well,” mused Hermione, and Harry could tell she was concerned. “You said Sebastian had to forcibly remove her?”

    Harry’s cheeks heated. “She was saying some nutty stuff, but he just kinda pushed her out and sealed the door. I think she tried to come in again, but there was no real _fight_ about it.”

    “Well, that’s better than there being a full physical altercation,” she conceded. “Has Sebastian gone home, then? Would you two like to come through, for dinner?”

    “Sebastian is back home,” agreed Harry, “--but I would love to stay. I wasn’t looking forward to the empty house so soon after the fight anyway.”

 

 

    Hermione didn’t mention anything new about whatever inspired her to ask him to hold off on breaking his lease. Harry didn’t push, because he knew his friend would never have forgotten his plight in a million years.

    They had a rather pleasant time catching up and discussing the ideas they had for turning their guest room into a nursery. Ron, forgetting Harry was living singly, absentmindedly joked that Harry would have to find somewhere else to sleep when he was in the doghouse, but Harry just shrugged and said he didn’t think _that_ would be an issue for a long time.

    The week crawled by for Harry, and the three hours by Sebastian’s side in art therapy were both soothing and not nearly enough.

    On Monday, they greeted each other with bright grins. Seeing that expression on Seb's face lit Harry from within. It was nice to know how happy _both_ of them were to see each other, even if they didn’t speak the words aloud and always kept that cautious space between them.

    “No word from Hermione,” updated Harry soon after they’d sat in their customary spots at the kitchen table. “I don’t think I mentioned on Friday... when I flooed Ron and we got that misunderstanding out of the way Hermione invited me — and you actually, if you'd still been here — over for dinner. It was nice.”

    “Then it's good I'd just left, so you could tell them honestly I couldn't come.”

    Harry nodded, a little disappointed Sebastian still intended to avoid his friends indefinitely, but knowing it _was_ what he'd agreed to. The other man was eyeing him and Harry knew his affirmative head bob hadn't hid a single one of his thoughts from his companion.

    But Sebastian seemed content to let it be. “How did the conversation with your friend play out? I'm guessing there was no bloodshed.”

    Harry smirked. “No _blood_ shed, but Ron just about pissed his pants when Hermione turned her glare on him. Merlin, am I glad she was on _our_ side of the war. It actually turns out he was just trying to convince Ginny to leave me alone. _She_ took what he listed, signs I am content moving on, and tried to use them against me.”

    “Hm.” Harry wondered if his companion secretly adored drama. He seemed disappointed there hadn't been a bigger scandal.

    “Anyway,” Harry started timidly, “I wanted to mention that I've played how it all went down in my head a hundred times this past week, and I've really come to appreciate how you talked to me while I was doing my breathing exercise. I tend to feel guilty that the whole world has to stop while I get my sh— stuff — together, and I really liked how you were able to say what you wanted _while_ keeping count. I'm curious to see how it helps when it's anxiety I'm struggling with, too.”

    “Well let's not create situations to test it,” instructed Sebastian, to which Harry rolled his eyes, “but if it helps I'll try to keep it in mind. Let's keep an open line of communication, in any case, just in case I say something unwise at a crucial time.”

    “Um. Speaking of communication,” Harry said slowly. “I have some _general_ questions that are totally not specific to _us_ but that I am curious about.”

    The taken-aback-eyebrow-raise might have been becoming one of Harry's favorite reactions from the other man.

    “I have... compelling evidence that leads me to believe that I am quite solidly bi. If not fully… well, _that's_ in question, anyway. But even though I now know this about _myself_ , I don't know how the _rest_ of the world thinks about —”

    “Harry, you are talking in circles.”

    “Sorry. Let me try to get it out properly. Er, what is it like, on a day-to-day basis, as a gay man in Wizarding Britain? What should I know about… my new future?”

    “If you are lucky then no one will ever know about you,” said Sebastian with complete seriousness. “My old boss was gay. I was one of the _very_ few that knew. If he'd been found out he would have been kicked out immediately by the pureblood higher-ups in the Ministry. He was incredible at his job, but he would have lost it, just like that. I kept my secret even closer than he did, even he didn't know, though we saw each other several times a week for years and I _knew_ he was similarly minded. Sometimes the rumors spread to the wrong people, but I put them down as fast as I found them. Now that I work for myself I'm much less careful, but still wizards and witches like your Weasley siblings can make life difficult, so I don't broadcast my orientation. I think your friend Dean has a similar approach.”

    “I'm pretty sure he's your friend now, too,” Harry commented drily in response to that last sentence. “Yeah, I never knew, so he definitely doesn't ‘broadcast’ it, like you said. it's a shame that has to be like that, though. Minister Kingsley has been pushing through a lot of changes since the end of the war. It would be nice if orientation acceptance could be one of them. Hermione writes down every law she comes across that is less than satisfactory, and she's just in an entry level position now but she had big dreams for more sweeping changes. Maybe she could be an advocate for us one day.”

    “Perhaps. But you did not ask about ‘one day,’ you asked about today. Today it is not a very friendly place — to be a wizard who likes other wizards.”

    “How do others get on? How do they find each other, fall in love, live life? I can't imagine where I'd be if we hadn't chosen easels next to each other.”

    “You would be right here,” the other man replied archly. “Without an owl, perhaps, but making the same progress with your Healer and drinking your tea.”

    “Not knowing there's something else out there for me, and miserably alone, staring at a box of junk in the corner, wondering why it had gone all wrong and if _that_ was as good as it's ever supposed to get. I am _very_ glad to be in _this_ universe, thank you.”

    “You cannot be implying anything I've done to you would compare with full intercourse with your ex.”

    Harry flamed. “Er… not _together_...”

    Sebastian's eyes glittered, and his mouth curled deviously. “You _did_ think of me, didn't you?”

    Harry cleared his throat and looked away, caught between his desire to pursue the heated topic and the thought that they _shouldn't_ cross the boundaries they had set in place.

    Sebastian made a visible effort to pull himself together as well. “That is... very flattering. Maybe we should change the subject.”

    “How about your commission? Did you figure out the best way for the foreground to pass by the front as the viewer walks past?”

    Sebastian's face brightened minutely, and Harry knew he'd asked the right question. “I've continued to run into trouble,” he confessed, running a finger along his upper lip in thought. “I've been making smaller test paintings, but it's been difficult to figure out how to get parts of the foreground to disappear behind the frame. In most paintings the foreground is ever-present, and it's the background that distorts as the perspective changes. But I believe I've finally found a solution in using a glaze of animation potions _between_ layers of paint. The way I've been able to do it, it seems like the enchantments register the separated layers as being two separate paintings, moving independently of each other.”

    “So the grass and stuff in front behaves like a background, even though it's on top,” Harry guessed thoughtfully.

    “Yes, the grass and stuff,” teased Sebastian. “I'll let you be the one who shows it to the customer, with that level of prose they'll fall in love with it immediately.”

    “Aren’t they already guaranteed to buy it?”

    "If they don't like the way I have presented their requests — if I haven't made the exact image they had in mind--they might not wish to have it in their home — or business, as in this case."

    Harry frowned, discontent. "That's not right, you're an amazing artist. Anything you'll make will be outstanding, I'm positive."

    "Most people _are_ happy enough to own a piece of art that is beyond their own ability to create. Some can be quite particular, however. I can only guess to the best of my ability what they would like... and use my own preferences for the rest."

    “Still I think they should just take it and be happy.” In the back of his mind he knew that's not how _he_ would like to buy an expensive work, but he'd been astounded by everything the other man had made and couldn't imagine anyone else not feeling exactly the same.

    That eyebrow rose carefully. "I thank you for coming to my ardent defence. If it makes you feel any better all of my clients are required to put down a materials deposit. I am not working _entirely_ unpaid for the duration of my experiments. This project in particular had a large deposit fee since the client and I both knew that this would be a difficult ask. If at the end, I show the painting and the client mentions a whole list of other things that were not mentioned at the onset of this undertaking, then I will tack on a few extra fees as I redo the project to his satisfaction.

    "This is actually the largest project I have taken on so far. I only got my start 3 years ago when I left England, and doing well on this project could open up opportunities for me."

    Harry leaned forward, interest caught. "Large in size, or you mean the client is a big one?"

    "Both, actually. A smaller client would not be able to afford the large dimensions of this work."

    "That's amazing, Seb. But... Is spending this time with me taking you away from your project? I don't want to set you back." Harry nibbled his lower lip, worried that Sebastian _would_ spend more time away--equally worried that he was holding the wizard back from his dreams--and Sebastian leaned across the table to gently peel his lip away from his teeth with his thumb.

    "It is fine. In any case, how could we ascertain our compatibility if we do not even meet?" Harry basked in the warmth of that statement, and the touch of the hand on his chin.

 

 

    "So! How was your week?" Healer Matilda poured their tea, and slid the plate of biscuits slightly closer to him.

    "Surprisingly good, despite some difficulties, actually. I think the sessions seem to be helping out quite a lot. I hardly had any trouble at all with triggers this week."

    "I'm glad. It also sticks out to me that your life has become significantly busier, as well. Between meeting with Sebastian, your friends, and spending time with your nephew Teddy there's hardly enough time between to dwell."

    "That's true, Harry agreed slowly. "And even though I'm on the cusp of losing my home in general I have less detractors in my life."

    "You are referring to your relationship with Ginny. Would you like to talk about it this week?"

    "Er... No. I'd actually like to talk about Sebastian."

    "Sure. Is everything alright?"

    “Yes, actually, and that’s kinda the problem. We get along _really_ well. He’s careful to avoid my triggers but if I need help he steps in right away; he doesn’t even hesitate — and he’s so _good_ at calming me down. Aside from the… you know, _‘alley thing’_ we never argue, and all of this makes me _want_ him. _That_ way. But I can’t even casually hold his hand, experience how that feels, even though I _know_ he feels something too!

    "If this were a _real_ relationship, and he were a witch, I would have tried to take him on a couple dates by now. We would be snogging on his doorstep as I drop him off and spending every free moment together. But we _don’t_. We have these stupid — I’m sorry, I know they’re not stupid but they _feel_ stupid when I feel this way — rules in place that prevent me from holding him and we only spend quality time together _once_ a week which doesn’t feel like _nearly_ enough, and suddenly I’m like, what, gay as a freaking purple pygmy puff for this guy and I _can’t do anything about it!”_

    “What did Sebastian say when you told him you felt this way?”

    Harry, who had leant forward during his impassioned monologue, froze. “Er… I, uh, haven’t said any of this to him.”

    “Well, how do you expect anything to change if he doesn’t know you’re struggling with the distance? He’s not a _mind_ reader Harry.”

    “I guess so.”

    “So, what would you say? If he was here, right now, and you could convey these things to him, how would that go? What response do you think you would get?”

 

 

‘Dear Seb,

    ‘In my session this morning I talked with Healer Matilda about something that I should probably share. Don’t worry, she still doesn’t know you take you-know-which potion. Maybe an owl is not the safest place to write this down but I don’t want to have to wait all the way until next Monday when we can be alone again to say some of this stuff.

    ‘I want to see you more often. I want to hold your hand again. I want to hug _every_ time we say goodbye. I want to ask lots of questions about how things would be one day if we _do_ decide — eventually — that we _are_ each other’s forever.

    ‘I’m scared to think about that hazy some day. I have strong feelings for you and I am comfortable with that, but I’m scared all the same about the unknown _physical_ stuff. And excited. But mostly scared. I have… hang ups with intimacy and I don’t know how you’ll respond to them. I don’t know how I can ever make the permanent decision that you require without understanding what it would be like, without knowing you would be okay with me as I am.

    ‘I also have to admit… and it is really hard to make my quill move right now, that I’m terrified you won’t want to wait for me. Even though we _both_ decided to keep space between us, and you feel the strongest that it is necessary, I still wonder how long I have before you decide you want an easier boyfriend. Partner? Lover? What term do wizards use? You get what I mean.

    ‘That’s all I wanted to say, but I want to keep writing because I’m afraid you wont like what I’ve said and I want to erase it all.

    ‘If I’m brave and send this letter just like it is, will you be brave and come to an early dinner with me before Art Therapy? Or after, but it will get pretty late. I would prefer to eat at a Muggle place so I can take off my glamours and it just be you and me without you peeking through your glasses. Or you can come over and I can cook for you, but I’m already going to be nervous and worrying about ruining your dinner will make it worse. No, let’s definitely go out to eat. If you want to. Please.

‘I’m going to stop writing now.

‘Yours,

‘Harry’

 

 

‘Harry,

    ‘I agree that before any decision is made we will need to have a great many conversations about what our expectations are for each other. I worry that right now is too soon for that kind of talk, for as much as I want to avoid an entirely romantic relationship, I also want to avoid what that is solely built on the physical. Sometimes when I am with you I get caught up in your beauty and let my mouth run away with me, but I really do want you on an intellectual level as well — our talk discussing the protection of ill-treated muggleborn children comes to mind as a moment when I realized you were hiding an impressive mind behind your iconic spectacles.

    ‘The embrace we shared a week-and-a-half ago was quite singular for me as well. I too found myself wishing to reach out to you at our farewell two days ago. I really do want to take care, and not dive in where we might not survive, but I cannot deny you this request. A hug upon “goodbye” it is. I nervously admit I am looking forward to it.

    ‘As for your apprehensively penned _personal_ concerns… I cannot answer about your difficulty with intimacy until we can speak more plainly on the shape these issues take. Let us wait a little longer, establish a routine in each other’s lives before we tread those waters. For now, I can assure you that you have me quite firmly under your spell, and I have no intention of looking elsewhere for any other pursuit of passion. I had no intention of starting one when I met you, but at every juncture I find myself eager to take care of and cultivate the unexpected connection between us.

‘When would you like to meet on Friday?

‘I am, until I clearly state otherwise,

‘Yours,

‘Seb

‘P.S. I really am fond of your name for me.’

 

 

    Harry was giddily prancing around his living room, clutching the letter which had been waiting for him that morning to his chest and chattering eagerly about it to Prince when his floo lit.

    “Harry? Are you… free?”

    Harry flushed hotly at being caught celebrating Sebastian’s reply... by none other than Hermione.

    “Ah… yeah, ‘Mione what’s up?” he asked weakly.

    “Put on some nice robes, comb your hair and come to my office please.”

    “Nice… robes? How nice?”

    “Job interview nice.” Harry’s heart leapt into his throat.

    “Alright,” he croaked. Hermione had done it. Whatever she had him waiting for, this was it. She was beaming, though, so Harry was determined to get past his Ministry triggers and try his best.

    “I’ll see you soon, Harry. Please trust me. It’s really good.”

    “Alright. Be there in… thirty minutes, maybe more.”

    “Bye, Harry.”

    “Bye.”

    Harry quickly turned about, heading for his bedroom and sifting through his robes to find a Ministry-interview-appropriate one. He had a couple nicer ones from other interviews, but he wasn’t very ambitious and hadn’t applied to very many careers which he’d needed to dress _remarkably_ well for.

    Even so, he felt good about selecting a set of navy blue open-front business robes he’s only worn once so far, choosing the grey trousers and matching grey-and-silver pinstripe waistcoat he’d gotten to complete the wizarding outfit. Typically, he preferred to wear Muggle tees and jeans under his robes, but he had enough button-ups and assorted three-pieces to get by at times like these.

    With a deep, fortifying breath, Harry finally lit his fireplace and called out, “Ministry of Magic, Atrium!”

    Witches and wizards in various states of urgency walked to-and-from the lifts at the rear of the Atrium. Many seemed to be arriving, and Harry guessed that they were returning from their lunch hour. It was his first time back in a year, and Harry was pleased to discover that the empty space where the ‘Magic is Might’ monstrosity had been removed from was now filled with the repaired form of the wizard statue that had been a part of the Fountain of Magical Brethren. The witch, goblin, centaur, and house-elf were missing, but Harry thought that was better than having them still standing around making cow-eyes at the wizard.

    Harry, having taken too long to gather his thoughts, was bumped by a witch exiting the floo behind him, and he apologized before deciding to buck up and head on to Hermione’s office. He’d only been there once before, during the Trials soon after she’d been hired by the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and he was curious to see first-hand how respectfully she was treated now, knowing that she had earned her way quickly from Assistant to the Head to the more permanent position of Advisor.

    He was a little worried about what potential job awaited him. He had no real interest in working to control, conceal, or otherwise manage the affairs of magical creatures beyond his own owl, or perhaps Arnold, Ginny’s pygmy puff whom he actually missed having around, fluffy little bugger. However, when he’d successfully navigated the cubicles of level four to her office, she quickly grabbed his arm and led him right back out again.

    “You made good time,” she commented nervously, tugging his arm as she walked at a fast clip back to the lifts. “Let’s go, we don’t want them to think you’re not taking this seriously.”

    “Taking, _what_ seriously, Hermione?” he protested, but he did not fight her, matching her pace easily.

    “I can’t talk about it here. _You_ can’t talk about it outside of where we’re going. It’s not official yet, but I’ve been cooperating all my free time with them so that it launches smoothly.”

    Harry’s brow knotted in his confusion, but he was hooked now, intensely curious to see what his friend cared so deeply about.

    His eyebrows rose when she took him to _“Level Three, Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, Invisibility Task Force, Muggle Liaison Office, Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee, Obliviator Headquarters,”_ but following her advice he kept his mouth shut and tried to look casual as Hermione walked more sedately towards an unmarked office in the hall to the left.

    “Hello, Madame Droope, I have brought Mr. Potter here,” Hermione greeted the grey-haired witch within.

    “Oh, thank you, Hermione. It is nice to meet you, Mr. Potter. Would you like to take a seat?”

    Hermione bustled around the space, summoning tea and serving it out as if she was very familiar with the office. For his part, Harry slowly slid into an open armchair in front of the elder woman’s desk and waited to be clued into what was going on.

    Madame Droope shuffled papers around on her desk, putting some in a drawer and removing a Muggle three-ring binder from another. This she passed over to Harry, as Hermione conjured a smaller seat beside her, as if she would also be interviewing Harry.

    “What we discuss today cannot be repeated outside these walls except in very close company, do you understand?” the woman asked. She slipped her bifocals off her nose to pin him firmly with her stare. It quite reminded him of Mrs. Weasley when she was enforcing a rule.

    “Yes, of course,” Harry said confusedly. “Hermione did not tell me much about what you wanted to see me about, though I gather it is some kind of job?”

    “A career, if you do well and wish to make it so,” informed the other woman, taking a sip from her tea with a polite nod of thanks in Hermione’s direction.

    “Harry, as you know, I’ve been working for a while now to reverse the damage done by the Muggle Registration Commission,” Hermione began earnestly. Harry could tell she was excited to confess what she had been up to since then. “Well, the work of that squad is winding down as we get the last few students who were held back sorted into their houses and set on their proper course. Now, instead, we have been working to create a _new_ division within the Muggle Liaison Office. One that provides assistance to muggleborn and mixed-ability families _well_ before they receive their letter.”

    “Hermione,” Harry gasped, understanding the implications of such a task force. Her eyes shone with a surge of hormone-addled emotion, and Madame Droope cut in smoothly.

    “We would like to bring you into this new division, Mr. Potter. The role we would have you fill is of a teacher, holding classes for Muggle-raised children so they are better able to understand the world they are entering when they reach school-age. We will offer you provisional compensation at first while you work on sample lesson plans, and would be glad to hire you on full-time if we approve of your proposal. You may submit to us, as required, resource request forms —” Madame Droope gently reached over and flipped through the binder on the desk in front of him to show him a sample form, “supplications for additional stipends _only_ as it relates directly to your research and work, and once your proposal is accepted, we would want a member of the Department, most likely myself as I am yet the only member, to sit in your first few classes and take notes to ensure success.”

    “This… this is quite a lot,” Harry admitted softly. “I never imagined this would be what Hermione had in mind for me. I am… incredibly moved that you think I would be a good fit.”

    “We’ve discussed your teaching history in full,” Hermione said comfortingly, “and both yours and my experience growing up so very blindly. It… it is our hope —” Here Hermione glanced at Madame Droope for permission to continue, which she was given with a tiny nod, “it is one of our main goals to pass laws which provide protections for muggleborn or mixed-ability children in abusive or otherwise neglectful situations. We’re hoping, once this comes to pass, that you may also take on the role of a _Social Services_ Wizard — we were thinking of the name Muggleborn Protection Wizard — along with your teaching duties. This would require home visits, inspections, making sure children have supervised access to their homework materials over the summers, and much more, I am sure. With this in mind, I could think of no one better suited to recognize the signs than you.”

    “It is a subject I feel passionate about, but mostly impotent because I don’t have the mindset to become a Law Wizard,” Harry confessed. “If the Division passes the laws, I _will_ do my best to ensure the practical safety of my students.”

    “And that is exactly the attitude that Miss Granger promised me you would have,” Madame Droope said with obvious satisfaction. “It should be said at this early juncture that Miss Granger and I have talked extensively — within the limits of what she was willing to share — about the difficulties you have faced since the end of the War. Before I ask if you accept this offer, I would like to inform you that while you _will_ be provided an office within this Department, it is not expected that you would use it on a daily basis, or at all while you complete your lesson plans and accompanying requisition forms. It is quite the boon to have as notable a figure as yourself as the first point of contact for our incoming spellcasters, workplace flexibility is certainly the least we can do.”

    “And we can apply to connect a direct floo line,” Hermione added in quickly. “With careful decorating, you may not feel as though you’ve entered the ministry at all. _And_ your student’s families can contact you directly if an urgent situation would arise.”

    Madame Droope nodded, but there was a cautious edge to her expression. “It would be highly irregular, but it might be done. In any case you’ll probably find yourself working closely with the other Divisions in the Department, particularly the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes.”

    Harry took the opened binder in his hands, flipping through the various forms and intimidating pages of relevant laws he needed to keep in mind during his research phase.

    “This is a big deal,” Madame Droop informed him gently. “The work you do to create the classes and the decisions you make as a Muggleborn Protection Wizard will be the foundation on which every new teacher and Protector will work with afterwards. Please think carefully before accepting this offer.”

    “I don’t need to — I mean — I have been thinking about it as you have laid it out so well, and I feel I can only accept. I will do my best in this, so you may focus on creating laws to keep Muggle-raised wizards like me safe.”

    The kindly grandmother-esque face transformed in beauteous delight. “That is absolutely wonderful to hear, Mr Potter. Welcome to the Muggle Liaison Office’s, yet-unfounded Division of Magical Minor Assistance.”

    Hermione beamed, hormonal tears flowing as Harry stood and shook both their hands officially.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always... thank you :)


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Madame Droope confirm details and Harry shares his excitement with Sebastian.

# Chapter Thirteen

    “Now,” Madame Droope said, clasping her hands together in satisfaction. “Would you like to discuss further what we have in mind for the class times and locations so that you are so-armed during your planning sessions? I do believe Miss Granger will have to return to her own Department soon.”

    “Probably now, actually,” Hermione said reluctantly, studying the clock on the wall. “Though I’ll be happy to discuss further with you later, Harry.”

    “I would love to,” he replied to his new Head, before turning to Hermione and giving her a hug and cheek-kiss farewell. Hermione squeezed his arms extra tight, and glowed with pride as she bid him a final farewell.

    “Alright then,” Madame Droope began firmly, collecting her papers again. “We had in mind at first weekend classes during the Muggle school-year. They, of course, cannot apparate or floo-until you teach them how to submit the proper forms —  so we will need _you_ to travel to classrooms localized to _their_ needs.”

    “That sounds reasonable,” Harry agreed. “How wide is the scope of this? Will I be Apparating to Ireland, Scotland, Wales, _and_ London? All in one weekend?”

    “A good question,” she commended. “We will start small, with a test batch of four locations in London, between Liverpool and Manchester, Leeds, and Bristol. So your jumps will be relatively close. Upon the success — or failure — of this first venture we will contemplate hiring local witches or wizards to instruct and Protect their own region’s children.”

    Harry nodded, finding that to be much less magically exhausting than he feared.

    “You said these four classes during the school year, what about summers? Will there be a different schedule?”

    “Well, _Hermione_ had an idea for the Summers which I find absolutely thrilling. She explained to me about Muggle summer camps, and I am enormously intrigued at the idea of bringing all regions under the Ministry’s jurisdiction together in one big meet-and-greet-and-learn.”

    “It would be nice to invite magical families as well,” Harry suggested carefully. “We don’t want to create divisions before they’ve even been sorted.”

    Her grey eyebrows rose. “A sound caution, Mr. Potter. You are right. Perhaps we should make _all_ classes open to whichever eligible children wish to attend. Of course, this greatly increases the available number of ambitious parents who might wish to hire you for _extra_ tutoring lessons during the week as well, giving you a heavier workload until we hire more teachers. Though, the Muggle parents will have a chance to meet magical families and receive advice directly from those with the most experience in handling accidental magic, as well.” Her assessing look became a smile once more. “I look forward to reading your strategy to assist their introductions when you are ready.”

    Harry agreed, but was distracted, ready to ask another painful question. “When my work brings up a case in which the child clearly needs to be removed from their home for their own well-being, how will the Division be prepared to rehouse them? How will you — _we_ — provide the necessary care? They will need a loving home to enter, and a family who understands they may not present themselves the same way as a child loved unconditionally from birth would.”

    “I am glad Hermione insisted I look into you for this role,” Madame Droope said gently. “I said it before, but I will again. That is the _exact_ kind of heart this position will need. We _are_ working out plans for a fostering system. We cannot overtly request for applicants until we have organized ourselves into a fully-functioning, officially-recognized and funded Division, but we have been concerned about this issue as well. Luckily, we estimate that the rate of grand abuse is rather low, but we recognise that the effects can be far-reaching and quite devastating if even one child is left unrescued. You taught the world that when you wrote that article on Who-Must-Not-Be-Named several years ago, though most didn’t fully understand it at the time.”

“Not only him,” Harry added quietly. “I know of a few other wizards who were ill-treated by their parents that left a mark so deep they took Voldemort’s just to distract from it. An empty heart leaves a hole.”

“Yes it does.” she agrees somberly. “Should we take a look at the map and I can show you where your classrooms might be located? We have not made any definitive moves to acquire space, yet, but I can show you the neighborhoods in which we are looking.”

“Yes, please,” agreed Harry happily.

 

 

‘Seb!

    ‘While I enjoyed your letter (perhaps a little too much--I got caught celebrating) I can’t respond to it right now because I have amazing news! You told me to send word when Hermione’s plan was revealed and oh, my, _Merlin,_ it’s amazing!

    ‘I cannot reveal it in a letter, but you are definitely one of my permitted “close company” friends I want to share the details with — under that Muffling Charm I showed you. I was thinking, to celebrate, I might take you to a slightly fancier restaurant than we otherwise would have chosen to celebrate my rescue from homelessness? My treat, as is tradition.

    ‘Tomorrow, four o’ clock? I will go to the Muggle library and look up the ideal place for us to go.

‘Excitedly yours,

‘Harry (the no longer unemployed wizard.)’

 

 

    After returning from the library with printed directions to an Italian-American fusion restaurant that had good reviews, Prince proudly offered Harry Sebastian’s response.

‘Victorious Harry,

    ‘That is welcome news indeed. Astoundingly so, since you appear to be so pleased with whatever the offer was. I can only imagine is has to do with returning to the Auror Corps or something to do with Quidditch, but I can be patient to hear directly from you.

    ‘I don’t know which tradition you are citing in which a recently-impoverished new job-holder would _ever_ foot the bill during the celebratory dinner, but let me make it clear that _I_ will be taking _you_ out to the establishment of your choice, as is proper by _wizarding_ standards.

‘Yours at four tomorrow,

‘Seb’

 

 

    Harry jerked open his door about two seconds after Seb had knocked on it.

    “Hi!” he greeted cheerily, mostly dressed and ready to go. He’d gone with another wizarding outfit for the special occasion, minus the robes which would be difficult to explain, and Sebastian’s eyes slid down his frame in apparent shock as he took in Harry’s charcoal trousers, dark red waistcoat complete with gold pocket chain, and slate grey button-up.

    “You have surprised me yet again,” the older man murmured, eyes still wandering over the fitted silhouette the wizarding clothes offered.

    “Should I turn around and let you see my butt before we head into the public?” teased Harry, though, truthfully, while he was enjoying the other man’s enjoyment as it _was_ quite a bit, turning around might be too far for his comfort.

    Sebastian cleared his throat, a flush rising on his tanned cheeks. “That is yet unnecessary, though I request the right to reverse that decision at a later date.”

    Harry laughed, and retrieved his Muggle billfold from his writing desk before stepping outside with Sebastian.

    He’d stopped by earlier that day to reserve a secluded table at the restaurant, and they arrived right on time and were seated quickly.

    “I have not had many occasions to dine out in muggle London,” Sebastian said as he cast an interested gaze around the brightly lit and well-decorated dining area. “This is a pleasant environment.”

    “Don't be distracted,” Harry commanded. “we need to hurry up and choose, so we can hurry up and order, so I can hurry up and tell you my fantastic news.”

    Sebastian let out a short, startled laugh before obeying--after sending forth one warningful raise of his eyebrow, of course.

    “But don't rush the choosing part, I guess,” Harry murmured as he looked over the menu. “There are so many good choices here, I wouldn't want to be the cause of you making a decision you regret.”

    “How magnanimous of you,” Sebastian remarked idly as he diligently set himself to the task Harry had given. “I have not much experience dining out, at all,” he confessed after a moment. “And I do not want to order something which might react unexpectedly. In the American section, under pasta, there's one listed with 'firecracker shrimp' added. Other than that addition I think it sounds good. I am wondering how... big of an explosion they will set off.”

    “Oh, Seb,” Harry said, bringing up a hand to hold back a giggle. “Muggle food is all safe. They just call those ‘firecracker’ because they use hot sauce in the breading, and then fry them in hot oil. Muggles can only use flavor and cooking methods to make their food exciting, so they may use interesting names to help them sell better. They should all be safe for public consumption.”

    “Ah, I see.” Sebastian returned to the rest of the menu with greater interest, but in the end he decided to stick with the spicy pasta. Harry chose a chilled salad with tomatoes, fresh cheese, and fresh herbs which seemed to be unlike anything he remembered eating before.

    After their server--an affable enough guy who looked at them as if he was trying to figure out their exact relation — took their order, Harry quickly cast _Muffliato_ over the table and bounced happily in his seat.

    “Well, let’s hear it,” prompted Sebastian. Harry could tell he was trying to appear aloof, but his eyes betrayed his interest.

    “I have accepted a role as a teacher with the as-yet-unofficial  Magical Minor Assistance Division of the Muggle Liaison Office! I’m going to teach young muggleborns — and whichever magical families also let their children attend — what to expect when they arrive at Hogwarts!”

    “Incredible,” Sebastian breathed. “To think the things we have discussed in your kitchen would so quickly come to fruition. I don’t even have to ask if you are excited about this opportunity.”

    “I _am._ Oh, Seb, I’m also going to be in charge of home visits to children of Muggle or mixed-ability parentage to make sure they aren’t treated the way I was. I’ll be able to save children in unloving homes or orphanages — once the Division Head passes a few laws to pave the way for such a thing.” Harry reached out and gathered Sebastian’s hand in both of his own.

    “I never thought there would be something that excited me as much as becoming an Auror, and making changes to the system from there. But this… this is exactly what I want right now. Someone else handles the laws to make it work, and I get to teach all of the things I wish I’d known. To _save_ children like me, like Riddle, like… more abuse survivors I knew.” He didn’t feel comfortable revealing the late Professor Snape’s terrible childhood, even to Sebastian under the protection of the Muffling charm.

    Sebastian squeezed his hands a deliberate three times, and gave him the kindest smile Harry had ever seen from the man. “I’m happy for you,” he said warmly. “What can I do to help you? Did they give you lesson plans? When do you start teaching?”

    Harry beamed at his genuine interest, and started explaining the proposal that he would need to put together before the job was completely his. Sebastian 'hmm-ed' and 'ah-ed' appropriately during his monologue, and had several suggestions that had Harry brainstorming on the spot — discussions and demonstrations that might spark in the children the same awe and love Harry had experienced when he was eleven.

    When they parted after art therapy — having ducked back into that side alley for privacy — Harry squeezed Sebastian's middle extra hard, so grateful for the recent turns his life had taken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I write almost exclusively on my phone (with my Bluetooth keyboard primarily) and using the swipe features on my phone means Sebastian almost always gets written as "Sensations," instead. It is both supremely annoying and *hilarious* that his name turns into what sounds like a strip club. : thinking emoji:
> 
> Next chapter, we see an important development on Seb's side of the relationship... stay tuned...


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron and Hermione make a relationship breakthrough. Harry and Sebastian do as well.

# Chapter Fourteen

    “— and _Ron_ thought that was a _great_ idea, so now our nursery is absolutely _covered_ in orange paint. Splatters everywhere.”

    Harry laughed loudly, trying his best not to jostle Hermione’s belly too much with his reaction. “I can’t believe you bought Cannons brand paint without asking _and_ went ahead and painted it right away without any help,” he guffawed.

    Ron cleared his throat haughtily, shaking his paper out as if he didn’t have a care in the world to how they were teasing him. “It was good enough for me, it’s good enough for my little girl,” he said staunchly. Harry laughed again, and Ron’s expression cracked enough for his true sheepish emotions to show through.

    “We’ve been thinking of baby names,” Hermione said softly, exchanging a loving smile with her boyfriend while carding her hands through Harry’s hair in her lap.

    “Yeah, we’ve got some good ones,” Ron agreed.

    “Tell me,” demanded Harry, rubbing his nose against the just-noticeable swell of Hermione’s belly. There was no detectable movement yet, but Hermione said the baby could hear their voices and Harry had promptly snuggled up to introduce himself. With Hermione’s lap being a little bit wider and more cushy than before, he saw no good reason to sit back up yet.

    “Well, we quite liked the idea of Rose,” Hermione said happily. “Flower names are so well-liked in the wizarding world, but neither Ron nor I could remember ever meeting a ‘Rose’ before.”

    “We have also discussed Helena and Cherrelle,” reminded Ron patiently.

    Harry thought for a moment, chewing his lip before admitting, “I don’t think I’m going to have kids.” He hid his face in Hermione’s firm stomach to avoid Ron’s reaction. He heard the crinkle of paper as he must have gripped it too tight, but Hermione kept stroking his scalp lovingly.

    “Because things are going well with Sebastian?”

    “Because things feel _realer_ with Sebastian,” Harry confessed. “I think I missed all the signs that I was gay because I was holding onto every piece of love I could get. Every bit of warmth was entirely new. I didn’t know it could feel so…” He stopped himself at Ron’s strangled gulp. “Sorry, Ron.”

    “I’m working through it, mate,” the redhead croaked in return.

    “Well, what would _you_ have named your little girl?” Hermione asked softly. “If things had stayed nice and comfortable and perfect, what would you have named your child with Ginny?”

    “Lily,” Harry whispered. “Or Luna.” He poked the belly by his face. “Jane.”

    “Well we can nix that last one in the bud, right now,” Hermione said firmly, before turning her face towards Ron. “Rose Lily. Rose Luna. Lily… Rose. Luna Rose.”

    “Luna Rose Granger-Weasley,” confirmed Ron with a smile. “If you’ll hyphenate with me?”

    Harry twisted in Hermione’s lap awkwardly to see a modest ring sticking out of a box near his face.  Quickly realizing what was happening, he launched himself out of his friend’s lap to get out of Ron’s way.

    “Hy...phenate?” Hermione asked slowly, eyes stuck on the ring. Harry lifted his fisted hands to his mouth, excited and hopeful and not wanting his presence to screw anything up.

    “I know you didn’t want to get married yet, if ever,” Ron began. “I understand your reasons, but they are not mine. I want you, sweet, smart 'Mione. I want you in every way, forever. I — uh, shoot what was the next part?”

    “Whatever it was, my answer is yes!” Hermione jumped up, albeit a little less quickly than she could before, and bypassed the outstretched ring to jump on Ron, exactly the way she had during the Battle of Hogwarts — _breathe, two, three, four._

    “So, yeah then?” Grinned Ron, flushed and tousled looking after recovering from their snogging.

    “Yeah, then,” Hermione agreed, smiling shyly. “I never realized how much I actually wanted it until you asked. Professional ambitions aside, I want _you_ too, Ronald Weasley.”

    Harry was _not_ crying, thank you very much.

 

 

‘Dear Seb,

    ‘I know we're going to be seeing each other in two days but I have _more_ exciting news to share! Ron asked Hermione to marry him! They are going to hyphenate their last names, and have decided on their baby girl’s name! I forgot at ask if I am allowed to tell you what it is, but I was there, and I helped them come up with the first name! It made me feel so good to be there, in that moment. I wished you could be there too. I’m okay with it though, I understand.

‘Going to be an godfather again but still —

‘Yours,

‘Harry’

 

 

    On Monday, when Harry opened the door for Sebastian, the other wizard didn't step in as usual. Confused, and feeling a swell of worry at the discomfited look on the other man's face, Harry waited, searching his eyes until the man could tell him what was wrong.

    “I should have sent an owl ahead of time — my apologies. I was wondering if you would come with me, somewhere, today.”

    “I think so,” Harry agreed slowly. “Is everything okay?”

    Sebastian grinned ruefully — such an innocent expression it took Harry's breath away for a moment. “Yes, I believe so. I would like to show you my home. I am… somewhat nervous.”

    “Oh, my gosh!” exclaimed Harry. “Yes! Oh my gosh! Let me turn off the stove and we'll go right away!”

    “Don't burn yourself, we have time,” drawled Sebastian with amusement as Harry scurried around. “It's a Muggle area and I'll bring you through the front, so we'll have to take off our robes before Apparating. I am not in the Floo system, to take you in directly. Sorry.”

    “Don't be,” beamed Harry. “I am excited to see your home the proper way.”

    Sebastian worked his jaw for a moment before continuing. “I will first take you to meet my Muggle neighbor who I have the agreement with. If you still wish to see my house afterwards, I will take you.”

    Harry frowned. the way he said that made it seem like the neighbor had something bad to say about his dealings with Sebastian. Harry hoped that he was misunderstanding, but he would never know until he took the other man's arm.

    “Take me there,” Harry said softly, locking his front door and then holding onto the other man's arm for tandem Apparition.

    One uncomfortable squeezed-through-a-garden-hose trip later, and Harry and Sebastian landed in what looked like a completely non-magical two-car garage with the doors down.

    “He will have heard us arrive, but —” Sebastian said as he walked over to the door to the house, knocking firmly.

    “Ah, there you are, _il mio amico_. And… other friend. Sebastian told me he would be bringing you to see me today.”

    Harry gaped. Standing in front of him was the spitting image of Sebastian, with a few notable differences. Where  _his_ Sebastian wore his hair short on the sides and brushed straight back on top, This _Muggle_ Sebastian let his curly hair grow out every which way. It was a small difference, but it spoke to how much his Sebastian wanted to differentiate himself from his Muggle neighbor. He would have had to cut and style his hair after the first dose, _every_ day he took his potion. His eyes traveled back to his Sebastian, whose face was set in grim, almost sad lines, and realized why they were just standing there quietly, letting him evaluate them.

    “My name is Harry,” he said it last. “It is nice to meet you.” He knew now that his Sebastian was worried that he would not know the difference between the two of them, or perhaps that he would not _care_ about the inner differences between the two of them. He just didn't know how to stop that fear, now, with this identical stranger looking right at him.

    “Marco, _piacere di conoscerla_ ,” the shaggy man replied. Harry didn’t know what language that was, and looked to Sebastian for help.

    “This is my neighbor Marco, he is pleased to meet you,” His companion translated softly.

    “Thank you for helping Sebastian, Marco,” Harry said with a smile. “If you hadn’t, maybe I wouldn’t have been able to meet him. I am very grateful.”

    Marco smiled widely. “The pleasure is all mine, _mio amico_ Sebastian has been quite good to me in return.” Harry smiled in response, then looked to Sebastian for his next cue.

    “Would you like to see my home now?” he asked, as if he truly didn’t know what the answer would be.

    “Yes, please,” Harry responded. They waved and exchanged salutations with Marco, before the Muggle opened the garage door for them to leave.

    “You were testing me again,” Harry commented lightly.

    “I was. It felt too important to chance with words. I _am_ sorry that I keep ignoring your wishes.”

    “You were afraid, what, that I would jump into his arms, or something ridiculous like that?”

    “I was afraid of many things.” Harry sighed and pulled Sebastian to a stop by his hand, turning away from the nice little home that they seemed to have been heading towards to give the other man his full, serious attention.

    “I know that the face you wear isn’t your own,” he informed the other man. “Luckily, it is the way you handle me that has won me over so far. It’s the way you listen, and the way you cared _for_ me before you even cared _about_ me that has me hooked on you. I understand that this is the only face I’ll ever see, but I have been very strict with myself from the beginning to see _past_ it to concentrate on your behavior, expressions, and mind blowing skill with a paintbrush to tell me who you are. I am sorry I did not tell you my method for coping with your potion use. Maybe you would not have been worried.”

    “I would have been,” Sebastian confessed. “I have always been a jealous man.”

    “That won't work with me unless you tell me what you need, and it’s something I can agree with,” whispered Harry. “We’ve worked through several red flags already and come through the other side clearly understanding each other’s needs. This _has_ to be the same.”

    Sebastian nodded, squeezed his hand three times, then led them in the direction of the house again. “Later, when it is time for those kinds of talks. For now, let me show you my home.”

    “I’m excited,” Harry said, bouncing a little. “Is that your garden? What window do you paint by?”

    Sebastian finally smiled, as he’d hoped. “That is my garden. I’ve had some trouble with rabbits, but putting up shield charms seems to keep most of them out. They can still go under, but they usually don’t — I think because there’s no quick escape then.”

    Sebastian led him to the waist high white fence, and Harry smirked at how much was contained inside. “Expanding Charms in broad daylight? _Naughty_ , Seb,” he teased.

    Sebastian turned darkened eyes to him and Harry gulped when a small, knowing smirk grew beneath them. “I shant reply the way I wish to,” he said slowly “but just know that I _very_ dearly want to.”

    His voice had deepened wonderfully at the end, weakening Harry’s knees and making him think his own ‘ _naughty’_ thoughts. “Your voice is still the same without the potion, right?” he asked hazily.

    “Yes.” He was fully smirking now, that arrogant, sexy bastard.

    “Oh. Good,” Harry replied weakly.

    “There are Muggle Repelling Charms on the fence line,” Sebastian continued on as if there hadn’t been a heated interlude. “But the window I paint at is around the back, which I haven’t done anything with yet. Would you like to come inside?”

    “Yes,” Harry replied, a bit too strongly as he regained control of himself.

    Sebastian’s front door was a dark emerald green with beveled glass decorations set into the top third, and he had normal Muggle flowering plants growing along either side, their shape organic instead of harshly pruned. His house was painted in light shades, and very similar in shape to the others on the street, all of which were also two levels, though Sebastian didn’t have a car sitting on his drive.

    From the outside, Harry loved it.

    It was a bit dim in the foyer when the door closed behind him, but Harry could see through to the back of the house where the sun was much lighter. Sebastian flipped the Muggle light switch next to the door, and a fairly rustically furnished entry revealed itself.

    “Cool,” Harry commented, walking forward to run a hand along the organic edge of his entry table. It was polished to a high sheen and covered in a thick lacquer, but the original wobbly shape of the tree it had come from had been preserved. The lamp sitting on top of it was made from textured, unglazed pottery. Paintings littered the walls around them with frames that were mixed shades of wood, but they all seemed to preserve the natural grain and unique properties of the source trees.

    Sebastian seem content to let him wander, so he walked further into the back where the other man had said he painted. There a very large easel set facing away from him and towards a large bay window where he knew the sun must come in beautifully in the mornings. Most of the light came through that window, but there was a small window in the kitchen just above the sink. The theme of rustic but thickly lacquered wood furnishings continued through the rooms in the back of the house, where the living room, kitchen, and dining area all blended together openly.

    Bookshelves littered the edges of the living room, and a reading lamp hovered over one side of the couch there. Two books were stacked on the accompanying table, and Sebastian headed over there to them, gesturing for Harry to follow.

    “‘Applied Psychology,’” Harry read out loud, “and ‘Cognitive Behavioral Therapy for the Traumatized Mind.’ These are the books you said you had been reading for your own recovery, right?”

    “Yes, but what I wanted to show you was —” Sebastian flipped over to one of the many pages marked with sticky tabs. There, magically highlighted and decorated with glowing arrows pointing at what must be important sections, was the chapter on ‘Domestic Psychology: Advanced Communication in Intimate Relationships.’

    “You went back and started studying the interpersonal chapters,” Harry realized.

    “There are more than this. But these are the ones I started with three years ago, and these are the ones that I began to read again when I knew something was growing between us. I'm hoping that it will help me where previously I might have let you down.”

    “Thank you,” Harry said with his whole heart. “Healer Matilda has been giving me relationship-specific advice as well.”

    Sebastian nodded. “I may not want to see a mind healer myself, but I did not want you to be putting in the work alone. With this, I hope you can see that I am… invested. Your worry from your letter the other day, I hope this helps show even when I am away from you, I am still working towards you.”

    Harry swallowed hard, and Sebastian gave him a minute by turning away and replacing the books on the table.

    “I like your little hutch over there. Is that what it's called when a cabinet has glass doors? A hutch?”

    “Mmm. I got that from a flea market, actually. I use it to store my supply of Polyjuice Potion. This is an easily accessible part of the house.”

    “Do you normally stay in disguise even when you're at home?”

    “No. I only wear it when I am in London. And now, when you're here, I will continue.”

    “So you're going to invite me back?”

    “It depends,” Sebastian said in a deceptively mild voice.

    “Er… on?”

    “How long it takes you to notice the painting.”

    Harry spun around, head swiveling to find the artwork he'd apparently missed amongst the crowded bookshelves and cabinets. Then, he saw it, a colorful, residential cityscape, every centimeter absolutely crammed full with impossible detail.

    “Wow,” he could only think to say. “This has to be one of yours, right?”

    “It is my favorite,” Sebastian said proudly. He stepped forward as Harry did, and laid a paternal hand on the frame. “It took nearly a year, working on it at least twice weekly, to finish. You see these faces, here?” Small one-half centimeter long faces smiled up at them and waved at their attention.

    “They're amazing. So tiny yet so clear, like you took their picture.”

    “I painted those tiny features using single-rabbit-hair brushes. Each face took several hours, spread out over several sessions.”

    “I honestly can't imagine the amount of work and dedication.”

    “The real secret is that there are actually two paintings on top of each other. This painting is where I first started experimenting with layering the animating potions — how I knew it would be possible with my current commission. Underneath this bright day scene is the identical scene… but at night. When darkness falls outside, it also becomes night in this painting as well.”

    “That's incredible. I'd like to see that one day.” Harry backed off from the hair's-breadth distance he’d used to inspect the painting to regard it again as a whole. “The level of detail over the whole thing absolutely boggles my mind. You always create beautiful work, but this is so far beyond the things you do in at therapy.”

    “I enjoy painting simple things as well. But it's hard to be as proud of anything after this one.”

    “It's your — what is it called? Magnum Opus?”

    Sebastian nodded. “It very well may be. I can't imagine going through all that again.” He laughed, shaking his head, and Harry definitely empathized with how burnt out that much effort must have made him. He was usually quite done after just one therapy session.

    “So that easel over there, that's where you paint your commissions?”

    “Yes. I took the landscape commission off of it this morning, or else you wouldn't have been able to see the window around it.”

    “It's really that large?”

    “I can show you, if you're interested. Then perhaps I can finally serve you tea from my own kitchen.”

    “That sounds wonderful.”

    Sebastian took him to another room which may have originally been a spare bedroom or study, but was being used by the artist to store dozens upon dozens of varying sized canvasses, most stretched over wooden frames, but some large rolls of clean fabric were stacked by by the wall as well. To the right, a humongous canvas dominated the wall from floor nearly to the ceiling.

    It was a beautiful landscape so far, with soft colors _just_ a bit more dreamy that could be real. There was not a lot of detail yet, barely more than the basic shapes, but Harry could tell it would be soothing to view when it was complete.

    “It's going to be the main focal point behind the welcome desk of the Ospedale Magico here in Italy.”

    “Oh, so we are in Italy? I'm… allowed to know that now?”

    Harry's question was openly curious and not a pointed barb, and Sebastian regarded him seriously. “It feels like the right time. Also — I had to know. You had to meet Marco. Nothing about this would feel safe until you did.”

    Harry reached for his hand, received the three squeezes he'd come to expect in return. Then he paid attention while Sebastian brought his attention to a stack of hand-sized paintings he'd made while prototyping the Ospedale painting, pointing out what was wrong with each, and how he'd thought he might correct it. After a painting or two Harry leaned his head on Sebastian's shoulder. He knew he was breaking their no-touching rule, but the man simply paused, and then continued on as if nothing was amiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe I should have put a warning in the beginning... I do not speak Italian! Haha. Marco is not supposed to be a commentary or stereotype for his country of origin, he is just a man. :)
> 
> Also, probably less interesting, I've been working hard on a Alpha/Omega HP/SS fic and using the books *heavily* to get details, original quotes, and timelines just right, and *you guys* I have been using hyphens all wrong this whole time. Instead of "—" with two spaces on either side, I've just been using two dashes "--" with no spaces! I fixed the problem while I edited this chapter, and when I find myself in a writing rut I'll go back and fix the previous ones as well. I never realized just how often JK uses "—" in the books. It's like, a LOT. Haha
> 
> Extra imaginary internet cookies for those who get the reference for the two other possible names for Luna Rose.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two plotlines advance.

# Chapter Fifteen

    Harry stayed through a deliciously put-together lamb meal, accompanied by artichokes which Harry had never tried before. Harry eagerly offered to help when Sebastian suggested he stay, and they worked comfortably side by side, Harry slicing off the sharp leaf-tips to Seb's exacting instructions, and the homeowner himself creating a fig sauce with confident precision.

    Harry felt a warm glow inside him during the meal preparation and dining. With the accompanying red wine and the easy discussion of the origin of the house's many unique furnishings and the work Harry had done so far on his proposal, he slowly became aware of an intense happiness that was unforced, and simply present beneath their otherwise normal activity. Ignoring Sebastian's flask that evening was the easiest it had ever been.

    When it was time for him to go back to his own apartment, he eagerly stepped into the older man's arms for the agreed-upon hug.

    “I had a great time tonight,” he whispered into Sebastian's shoulder. “Thank you so much for letting me come here.”

    “I'm glad,” the man replied simply.

 

 

    After the visit, Harry began to seriously buckle down on researching the state of present-day Muggle education and figuring out what different age groups could handle in terms of classwork. He went ahead and filled out several requisition forms for various supplies like basic quill sets for every student, a set of raw wand components to use as a teaching tool, semi-sentient plants and training brooms and various other devices that will show the useful and fun aspects of The wizarding world they would be stepping into one day.

    The request form which gave him the most pause — and indeed he set it aside from the others to think about it further, was a partnership request between the school and wizarding businesses like Honeydukes — or even Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes.

    Harry knew that George, at least, would be absolutely thrilled for the free advertising and the ability to proselytize to such a young group before they've even attended Hogwarts. He thought the kids would enjoy magic for the sake of absolute silliness — but he was unsure how his new boss Madame Droope would feel about a joke shop owner who oftentimes dabbled in dangerous experiments sharing his creations with their students.

    In any case, before he set it to the side, he wrote down a long list of restrictions and requirements for any shop owners participating in the education program, _precisely_ with the joke shop owner in mind.

    The Thursday following his visit to Sebastian’s house he found himself distracted by his own grumpiness. As soon as he realized _w_ _hat_ was preventing him from concentrating on the dry Fundamentals of Primary Education text he was forcing himself to choke down, he sent an impromptu Patronus to Sebastian.

    “Hey, Seb. Sorry for using a Patronus to ask, but can I come over? I am studying, but I feel a little lonely and would rather be reading this thing next to you rather than all alone. Okay, that’s it. Please go as fast as you can, he lives rather far away.” His stag sprinted away obediently, and Harry pushed the book away to pace nervously for the response.

    Seb’s response came in the form of a Patronus animal Harry had never encountered before. A massive, four-legged _griffin_ brought Sebastian’s message with it.

    “If you don’t mind that I’ll be stuck behind my easel, come on over. I’ve got the kettle on.”

    When he arrived, Sebastian looked visibly shaken, and Harry regretted using the Patronus after all. Silently, he swore to himself to never rely on that form of communication again, and settled into the corner of the couch where Sebastian had lit the lamp and placed a fresh cup of tea for him to enjoy while he read.

    Over the next few weeks Hermione’s stomach appeared visibly bigger at each of their Sunday dinners and slowly Ron became more comfortable with Harry and Hermione casually discussing Sebastian’s presence in his life. He met with Madame Droope and Hermione, both together and separately, at the Ministry as he occasionally ran into areas where is lack of experience left him clueless and needed additional viewpoints. On Mondays Sebastian and Harry continued their usual method of talking over tea, but more and more frequently they enjoyed cooking and enjoying dinnertime together as well. After the Thursday where Harry had gone to work at Sebastian’s house, the older man had extended him an open invitation to continue visiting, and they sought out a pair of linked glass globes which simultaneously changed colors — rather like a Remembrall — when the correct incantation was cast on one.

    One Wednesday afternoon after an encouraging session with Matilda he tapped the beacon with his wand, sending the purple smoke color that they’d decided would mean Harry was wondering if he could visit. Sebastian had never declined yet so he set about gathering his books and binder while he waited for the other man to notice the color change. When it glowed green, Harry Disapparated.

    Mid-Apparition, a flash of light surrounded Harry, and he was abruptly knocked out of travel. Luckily he landed — with a slight bump — just down the street from his destination, and it didn’t appear that any of Sebastian’s neighbors were around to see him appear out of thin air.

    Alert, with his wand out and eyes darting all around for the source of the spell which had smacked him off course, he half-sprinted towards Seb’s house.

    “Harry! Buon giorno! Come, I have something for you to take to Sebastian!” Marco called out across his yard as Harry passed. He startled, unaware that the man had stepped out of his house, but reasoned that the other man must have heard the familiar crack of his crash-landing.

    “Ah, sorry, Marco, I need to—”

    “No! I insist! This year's harvest was very nice, come, let me show you.”

    Harry grudgingly turned away from the vision of safety that was Sebastian’s house and crossed Marco’s yard to enter his home instead. There the man brought him into his kitchen and showed off a bevy of identical red-filled jam jars, pronouncing that he’d grown the tomatoes himself as he pointed out the back window at a garden which had been very clearly picked-over. He foisted an armful of the largest size jars into Harry’s arms and then cheerfully sent him away, insisting that Sebastian not be greedy and let him keep at least one jar for himself.

    When he finally knocked on Sebastian’s door, feeling odd about it because he normally Apparated straight into the foyer, the older man answered the door with a flight frown, which morphed into an unreadable expression when he noticed the armful of jars he carried.

    “You went to Marco’s first,” Sebastian noted, an odd note underlying the calm words.

    “He had these for you,” Harry agreed, jiggling them in an effort to encourage Sebastian to take them from him.

    “I did not know you had continued talking to him since that _one time_ I introduced you.” The grit in his voice was clearly present now. The look on Sebastian’s face was severe; he was _very_ angry. For some reason — perhaps it was due to the empowering session he’d had with his Healer that morning, or the agitation still hounding him from being shot out of the sky — Harry felt like fighting back against the suspicion and _not being trusted_ yet again.

    “Are you _testing me again?”_ Harry demanded, getting right to the point.

    “Why were you over there?” Sebastian countered. “How many times have you gone to see him, the man _who looks just like me?”_

    “We have made no commitment to each other,” Harry reminded Sebastian, and continued on even as the other man clenched his jaw and fists so hard he heard them creak across the room. “But let me make it _clear_ to you that I am _not_ playing around with you.” He stepped closer, but stayed out of touching range, keeping his actions ‘appropriate.’ “You _know_ me, Seb. I _will not_ betray you.”

    As the other man let the words sink in and began to relax at the speed paint dried, Harry queried, “Do you think that this is a fear you will have often?”

    “Yes.”

    “Does it help for me to remind you that you know who _I_ am?”

    “Yes, but... especially with the declaration that my fears will not happen. You said it quite clearly, and that was helpful.”

    “Then that's what I'll do. Look at us, communicating.” Sebastian matched him, smirk for smirk, though Harry's faded rather quickly.

    “Truly, though,” he confessed softly, “If I ever decide ‘forever’ is out of the cards for me, I will let you know immediately. Would you do the same?”

    “... It might be too late.”

    “You already know I'm not forever?” Harry's voice came out as a squeak, and his chest tightened until he found it hard to draw breath at all.

    “No! I… apologise. I meant… well, at this point, I don't think you'll ever hear that from me. I shouldn't have said anything except ‘yes,’ I'm sorry. Love… are you breathing?”

    “Yep,” wheezed Harry, “but barely.”

    “Surely this is a time to bend the rules,” Seb murmured, as he drew Harry in for a tight hug. Together, they counted _breathe, two, three, four,_ and Harry clung tight around his middle.

    “You’ve never had a hard time breathing before.”

    “Is... this… a panic attack?” Harry replied incredulously. During all the intense struggles he’d had with anxiety and accidental magic ratcheting out of his control, he’d never felt this level of crushing, burning pain in his chest, squeezing the air out of his lungs and giving him the dizzying realization that _he felt like he was dying._

    “Oh, dear. Sit down, here, love. Head between your knees.”

    “Seb,” gasped Harry. His heart was pounding _far_ too fast. “Heart attack.”

    “I know it feels that way but you are safe, Harry. You are here in my home, the door is locked behind us, and I am right here with you. Just breathe, Harry. In, two, three... now hold here, two, three… out—”

    Harry’s breath exploded out of him in a painful gasp, and Sebastian stroked his back and continued. “I know it hurts, breathe in, two, three, hold, two, three, out—”

    His breath out that time was only marginally less violent than the one before, but Sebastian stuck with him until breathing slowly and calmly was no longer physically painful. After that, Sebastian extended the breaths to his usual four-second intervals, and they did a few repetitions like that until Harry finally withdrew his head from between his legs.

    “No, wait, don’t go,” he rasped as Sebastian began to scoot away from his protective position wrapped around him. “You help. I’m sorry—” Clearing his throat didn’t help the ragged state of his voice, so he ignored it and continued on. “—I’m sorry about this. I was already on alert because my Apparition was interrupted by a spell. I landed in the street outside and was running here when Marco insisted I come by, and when I thought I was losing you, just like that…”

    “Don’t be sorry — it was my misunderstanding. I admit I am concerned about how frantic you became. I have never seen you quite like that. It… makes me wonder. If this relationship has become unhealthy. For you.”

    “ _No…_ it’s just that I…” Harry put his hand over his heart, but couldn’t verbalize the tangle of _feelings_ and fear any further.

    “Still, I wonder if it would be better for you if we go back to how it was before this — subject — came between us. Friends, but leave the relationship topic behind.”

    “I think… if we did that… I’d have to paint this moment the next time Dean tells us the theme is ‘loss.’”

    “...Just so.”

    “I feel… really bad right now.”

    “How can I help?” Sebastian curled more closely around him.

    “I don’t know. I feel guilty. I’m really sorry.” Harry’s shoulders shook, swamped by residual fear and a heavy dose of shame.

    “What you’re feeling is normal,” Sebastian encouraged him gently, wiping his tears away with his bare hands. “You have nothing to apologise for. This was your first panic attack?”

    “Yeah. I didn’t think I would ever get one by this point, I’ve been getting better and it’s never been one of my symptoms.”

    “Hmm.”

    “Seb, can we... “ Harry trailed off.

    “What do you need, love?”

    “Can we… cuddle? On the couch or something? I really want a long hug.” Harry’s voice cracked, emotions wildly unstable, and Sebastian took him by the hands, pulling him up to standing.

    “Of course. Let’s go to the living room.”

    As far as first cuddle sessions go, it was much less sappy and love-dovey than Harry had hoped theirs to have been. But Sebastian seemed to respect Harry’s need for physical reassurance, and held him tenderly, stroking his hands down his back and finger-combing his hair as Harry’s breath continued to hitch for a good ten minutes.

    “You called me ‘love,’” Harry said softly after a while. Sebastian’s hand finished it’s track over his shoulder, then returned to lay still on his mid-back.

    “I did.”

    “I like it.” The arms around him tightened in response.

    “Good.”

    “Do you really think… that you won't ever tell me that you think I’m not your ‘forever?’”

    Harry’s voice was very small and timid, and Sebastian’s hand resumed playing with his hair.

    “It was a startling revelation, but I am mostly at peace with it.”

    “We haven’t even talked about how the physical aspect of our relationship would play out.”

    “No, but I like to think that I am an observant man. I listen to you and watch you and can guess that you won’t be into anything — unorthodox — that would result in my undue pain and suffering.”

    “Uh, you’re definitely right, there.” Harry replied dryly. Then he replied more worriedly, “I still don’t _know_ anything.”

    “When you are ready to talk, we can. I have waited my whole life to get this close to a real relationship. I am beyond pleased just to hear your quill scratching out your notes in my home, for hours on end.”

    Harry squeezed him tighter, and nuzzled his nose deeper into the other man’s neck. When they parted they would have to discuss the properties of that spell flash that had hit him earlier, make guesswork out of who might have sent it. For now he just wanted to breathe in the other man and feel safe... for a few moments longer.

 

 

    “Merlin, Harry, any ideas where it came from?”

    Hermione had finally been hit with her first bout of morning sickness — well after the period it was supposed to have _stopped_ occurring — and Ron and Harry had decided to go out to a bar so she could rest instead of having dinner at their house.

    “No, and nothing showed up on the scans I taught Seb, either,” growled Harry. It was frustrating to have no lead. No magical traces meant no roads leading back to the caster. At this point there was nothing they could do further and there was no point taking it to the Aurors, since Harry had done all the same things they would.

    “And you're sure he cast them correctly? It took both of us a long time to learn how to cast those at the academy.”

    “He took to them rather quickly,” Harry said, resigned. “I don't know whether to be impressed that he's such a great spellcaster or pissed that he mastered them in an afternoon where I couldn't.”

    “Did you make a record of the event?” Ron asked seriously. He hadn’t taken a sip of his whiskey since Harry had mentioned he’d been hit with an unknown spell.

    “Yeah. Approximate date and time, color, flare intensity, everything. I still remember _some_ things.”

    “Good on you. There’s nothing more we can do for you that you haven’t already done, but I’ll ask around if there’s been any reports of similar events.” With this settled, his glass finally came up and Harry watched the freckled throat swallow three large gulps in quick succession.

    “Thanks, Ron.”

    “Don’t mention it.”

 

 

    “What if I am annoying?” Harry asked abruptly, lowering his Charms for Children book slightly to peer sideways at Sebastian who was reading his psychology text at the other end of the couch.

    “Hmm?”

    “What if I am clingy?’

    "What… exactly are you referring to?"

    "What if... if I decide you’re my forever, and then I just want to hold onto you all the time like a barnacle and you think it's annoying?"

"Then we will have to discuss when it is and isn't an appropriate occasion for such behavior."

"...I guess so."

"It won't be like this forever, love. It cannot be. Eventually you _will_ be able to decide. It is… _intense_ right now because we have created an unnatural middle ground, but don't let that discomfort rush you. I have, hopefully, another hundred years before me. I am _happy_ to wait, if that means that everything plays out well.”

    “It's not right that I have so much power in this.”

    Seb leaned his body, stretching over the middle cushion to squeeze his hand three times before sitting back into the crook created by the arm and back once more.

    “Don't discount me quite yet,” he said, “I can send us right back into the friend zone whenever _I_ wish, as well.”

    Harry snorted at the _very_ Muggle term, and also relaxed back into his corner of the couch.

    That night as he left Sebastian’s he took a detour, instead of going straight home. Wearing a mask made up of an assortment of completely new glamours, transfigured sunglasses on top for extra protection, he went into a muggle bookstore and nervously purchased “The Ins and Outs of Gay Sex: A Medical Handbook For Men.”

    The cashier put it into a discrete black bag before slipping it into a regular transparent white one, and Harry thanked her quickly before hightailing it out of there. He knew that soon Sebastian and he would have to have some very interesting conversations... and he wanted to come in armed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you enjoyed this one. Some definite forward momentum.
> 
> Harry's panic attack was as real as I could make it, considering I've only had one -- a very mild one that did feel like I might be entering cardiac arrest. No two people's symptoms are the same, however, so if you know someone who experiences other symptoms -- hallucinations, dizziness, loss of vision, migraines, vomiting, it does not make someone else's more mild attack any less valid or terrifying an experience. Harry's wild emotions afterward are what I experienced. The attack was like a trigger times 100, and the aftereffects stayed with me for the rest of the day.
> 
> The book listed at the end is a real one. My Amazon search history will never be the same, but I wanted to seek out a real book that anyone curious about themselves (especially after reading fanfic like these) could be confident purchasing for *real, solid information.* The reviews are extremely positive.
> 
> Other avenues for people wondering about themselves are local gay support centers, and age-appropriate support groups run through them. There are some helpful forums online, and you can also seek online to find a gay-friendly doctor who would be able to give you the birds and the birds or the bees and the bees *properly.*
> 
> If your needs are a little more dire, or you don't know how to find local help, call the Trevor Project hotline at +1-866-488-7386
> 
> Happy Holidays! Stay safe, and be merry!


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry works up enough bravery to bring up a salient topic, and both of them get a terrible shock.

# Chapter Sixteen

    Harry shifted. He'd laid his binder flat on his lap a few minutes ago, opened his mouth, then felt a swell of _'I can't do this!’_ and shut it again. Since then he'd wrestled with his own mind, trying to figure out the exact combination of words he was brave enough to blurt out. Pictures flashed through his mind — moving pictures that he'd been able to search out on that one computer in the very back corner of the library — and his face flushed. ' _I need to figure out how to bring this up_.'

    Sebastian had come over to Harry's place for Monday tea rather than Harry going to his, just like 'old' times. After an early dinner, instead of parting, they’d retired to his living room for the first time to unwind in quiet companionship. Maybe Sebastian knew he was chewing on something big. The timing to talk about it was perfect, but he didn't know why it was so much harder to bring up this topic on his _couch_ , rather than all the times they’d broached other difficult topics across the kitchen table.

    Finally, after Harry opened and closed his binder once more, Sebastian laid his bookmark along the spine of the page he was reading and snapped his book shut. “What is it?” he asked patiently.

    “I've… gotten a book.”

    “You've _‘gotten’_ many books recently.”

    “Yes, right, of course, but _this_ book was more…” He stopped as he realized Seb was giving him a carefully curated look of pleasant interest — sosimilar to the looks that Matilda used on him when he had trouble speaking — that he wanted to shock the mask-like look right off the other man's face.

    “I bought an instructional book on gay sex,” he said somewhat sharply.

    Sebastian's eyebrows rose sharply, and Harry knew he'd tasted victory. “Well, that's good, I believe. Completely unexpected to hear those exact words from _you_ , though.”

    Harry flushed. He knew he always spoke _around_ the topic with phrases similar to _‘you know…’_ but it was embarrassing to be called out for it.

    “Do you think we might be able to discuss some of the things from the book that might pertain to us?” He asked finally. A soft ' _whump_ ' came from the direction of his bedroom, and he casually dismissed it as being Prince returning from his hunting trip.

    Sebastian carefully arranged his book over the apex of his lap, and then remarked mildly, “I am ready for all eventualities. What's on your mind?”

    Harry laughed. He loved every rare joke that Sebastian made. When the helpless giggles died down enough he was able to continue honestly. “Well, to tell the truth much of the book seems pretty straightforward as far as the vanilla stuff goes. As I was reading, though, there was a pretty basic _preference_ that seemed like it would be good to talk about ahead of time.”

    “I believe I can see where this is going.”

    “Topping and bottoming,” Harry said shyly, to Sebastian's unsurprised nodding.

    “What would you like to know?”

    “If it were us, which one is your preference? I have a really hard time getting my head around either one.” Harry's face flushed red at the thought of putting his fingers _down there_ where it was frequently sweaty, smelly, and literally full of poop at all times.

    “I strongly prefer the dominant, or top position. Bottoming is, for me, something I will never be comfortable with.”

    “Why not? Does it hurt? The book said it can.”

    “If care is not taken, it can hurt, yes, but it is also an extremely vulnerable position to put yourself in. To enjoy it fully you need to be able to relax and receive and _trust_ and the one time I tried it the experience left me so uncomfortable I thought I might vomit before my partner finished. It is not for me.”

    “I… see,” Harry said, not loving that rousing review.

    “ _However,_ if that kind of penile stimulation is a sensation you find yourself unable to live without, there are plenty of different toys available that almost perfectly simulate the feel of a real lover. We can easily incorporate something like that into our play, in a way that helps you feel connected to me while using _it_ instead.”

    Harry felt tingles of heat crawl along his skin at the mental image, and he felt a swell of naughty questions rise up against the upper wall of his chest, but he persisted in asking the important, immediately relevant ones. “Does that mean that you prefer to be in the top position in every... er, encounter? Or do you not prefer that type of sex at all?”

    “I _greatly_ prefer the top position,” Sebastian said warmly, pinning Harry fast with his eyes. “But it is not a requirement. I will say for myself... it is more difficult to give pleasure from the top, but I can be _very_ determined.”

    Harry clutched his binder more firmly over his own lap and gulped. ' _Don't ask him to prove it, don't ask him to prove it, don't ask him to prove it_...'

    “Why is it more difficult?” ' _Good job, self_.'

    “In general, it is easier to _take_ pleasure than it is to _give_ it as a top. Conversely, it is easier to _give_ pleasure as a bottom, but more difficult to _take_ pleasure. The anus was not made in the same way as a woman’s vagina is… having evolved over thousands of years to ensure use — procreation. A top who is unobservant or selfish would have a hard time giving their partner enough stimulation to make it worth it. Still, though, there are plenty of feel-good nerve endings in and around the anus, particularly around where the prostate joins itself to the rectum wall that a particularly sensitive partner might greatly enjoy the experience when it is done well.”

    Harry's brow furrowed, worried. “What if I’m not ‘particularly sensitive?’”

    Sebastian sighed. “I am not doing a good job of advertising it, I know. If that is truly the case then we will use the myriad of other methods available to us to bring each other pleasure. Let me at least say that I have heard from _others_ that it is extremely enjoyable for _them_ and they have made comments to the effect of not being able to live without ‘a good shagging,’ as it were. I am simply not the right man to sing its praises. Though, I would hope that eventually, when you are ready, we might give it a try at least once before any permanent decisions are made.”

    “And we could get a toy for you to make sure you aren’t missing anything if I feel just like you about it?”

    “If you would be open to that. I need to tell you, however, that in a committed relationship with me there are certain _toys_ which I absolutely cannot tolerate the use of.”

    “Like what?” Discomfitting flashes of spiked leather, whips, and various torture devices passed through Harry’s mind. _Those_ were the types of things _he_ wouldn’t like.

    “Like I said before… I am a jealous man. Possessive of my lover's affections. If we were to explore the option of toys I would never, ever want a false vagina anywhere near the list of options. Even hidden away in your home. Even in secret. _Especially_ in secret.”

    Harry’s mouth popped open before he closed it again — suddenly understanding how odd it would be for a body part so different from his partner's to bring him pleasure. Harry might not like it either if Sebastian _desired_ a form very different to his own to bring him off. How could Harry measure up to a beautiful, soft-skinned woman? He was lanky. Hairy. Short. He was suddenly glad Sebastian was fully, one-hundred-percent gay. Harry was a little above average there among his fellow males, at least.

   Then, Sebastian revealed his possessive nature went a little further than just gender.

    “Likewise… realistic phallus or anal tubes modeled after other men are completely out of the question. If something like that is needed — or even merely wanted — I will _gladly_ procure a custom item molded after _myself_ for you, or we can use ones which are clearly unrealistic… like those that are completely smooth or the opposite... nobbled or similar. We can go looking together. I know that this is not a _usual_ request but — Harry, are you alright?”

    No, not really. Nothing  _Sebastian_ said had set him off, instead it was his _own_ idea that he would never in a million years thought certain toys might qualify in his partner’s mind as almost _cheating._ What other thing would he not know of in the future and potentially leave Sebastian with the same horror he’d felt when he’d walked in on Ginny…?

    “Is this condition of mine really so abhorrent to you?” There was a note of tender pain in the other wizard's voice. A fresh sound that Harry never wanted to cause again.

    Harry grasped at the other man, then, binder tumbling to the floor, forgotten. “No! It’s not that — I just _know_ that there’s going to be something that I won't know hurts you but I won’t know that it would and you’ll be _mad_ and—”

    “Breathe, Harry. I understand. Hold it in, you’ve got it. I shouldn’t have assumed. Out, love. Okay, now, in… After all you have been through of course you would understand how I feel. I am not used to it, even at this stage in our friendship. My jealousy is more advanced than most… I have come to expect this stipulation to be rejected as foolish.”

    “It makes _perfect_ sense,” Harry refuted. “I’m only worried that it would never have occured to me. Though, uh, _toys_ wouldn’t have either, to be honest. Seb, I _really_ don't want to accidentally do something that hurts you.”

    “Nor I you,” Sebastian said softly, shifting Harry’s clutch on his arm so that they were more comfortably holding hands, “— but we have accidentally pushed each other’s buttons several times already and each time come through stronger and with a better understanding of one another. You just have to have confidence in me that I _will_ listen, even when I am angry.”

    “Can I speak of another worry of mine?” Harry whispered.

    “Of course, love.”

    “...May I speak frankly of my past without it hurting you?”

    Sebastian sighed. “I can tell this is important to you — and despite my faults I don't want you to be afraid of _me._  I will hold this fact in mind in case it is painful to hear, deal?”

    “I’m really worried that I will be boring for you,” Harry admitted. “When Ginny and I first became… intimate—”

    “I’m okay, Harry.” Sebastian interrupted drily when Harry started shooting him meek, worried little glances. “You can speak your mind.”

    “Er, okay. It’s just… we had a lot of problems in the bedroom. I didn’t like some of the… positions she wanted me to put her in.”

    “ _Put_ her in? Can you help me understand what that means?”

    “I just… liked face-to-face stuff,” Harry tried to explain, removing his hands from Sebastian's so he could hide his burning face behind them. “She always wanted things faster, harder… and for me to push her down during in… positions that _looked_ so degrading to me. I didn’t want to see her like that, to… _take_ as you said about selfish tops. She was really persistent about it; I came to realize that magical folk don’t really understand boundaries or consent in general thanks to those interactions. She wanted me to take potions or Cheering Charms to ‘get over it,’ during.”

    “I can see how something like that would leave a lasting impression,” Sebastian replied empathetically, though his voice was strained with what Harry knew now must be jealousy. Even so, he was able to reel it back in to speak words of comfort. “My Harry, you can rest assured that with me you won’t have to worry about such requests. And I won't ever _require_ similar acts from _you_ if we do have intercourse… it would be completely mutual or not at all. And if in the heat of the moment something happens you do not like you _must_ feel comfortable telling me. Right away, even. Mid-tryst. I care for you very much, I will want to treat you right.” Sebastian gathered his hands again.

    “My Harry, if slow and loving is all we’ll have together I will consider myself beyond lucky to be able to share it with you. It is already far more than I ever pictured myself receiving.”

    Harry reached out to cup Sebastian’s face and reassure him of how worthy he found him when his actions were interrupted by a loud and very unwelcome crack of apparition.

    “Is someone there?” he called out cautiously, hands frozen in the air as his attention was instantly diverted elsewhere. Sebastian had retrieved his wand from his pocket, and after a moment of no response Harry followed suit.

    “It sounded like it came from your bedroom,” Sebastian said in a low voice.

    “My… bedroom..?” Harry had been turned away the moment the crack rang out, with his bedroom directly behind his head he hadn’t been able to sense the direction.

    “Stay behind me. If it’s the mystery spellcaster then _I_ am not their target, _you are_ ,” Sebastian hissed when Harry began to protest.

    “ _Homenum revelio,_ ” Harry chanted instead, but the spell revealed nothing behind the wall. Nausea grew in the pit of his stomach. “Nothing. Which means that was…”

    “Disapparition,” confirmed Sebastian. “They might have entered the front door earlier. Stay behind me anyway.” The older man prowled around the couch to the bedroom door, then while keeping his body behind the edge of frame, used ' _aberto_ ' to open the door.

    Harry locked determined eyes with him, ready, waiting… but there was no noise. Nothing happened, no reaction at all from the still-active Humanoid Revealing Spell. When they eventually sidled their way into the room the confirmed it was empty, except for an angrily, _silently_ squawking Prince whose feet were seemingly stuck with a Sticking Charm to his perch.

    “Oh, Prince, I’m so sorry, _finite incantatem!_ ” Immediately the barn owl took flight, and dive-bombed Harry to cling to his outstretched arm.

    “Prince, did you see who was here?” Sebastian asked urgently. The owl hooted, but it sounded like it might both qualify as an affirmation and a confused ‘maybe.’

    “They were here, but they were hard to see?” guessed Harry next. Upon the owls eager trill, Harry looked at Sebastian miserably. “Disillusionment charm. You're right... they might have come in while we were eating dinner. I’d better start scanning the area. When I am done I’ll contact Ron to put in an official report, do you want to go before then or will you stay with me?”

    “I will stay,” Sebastian confirmed. His eyes were unfocused, angry. “Harry you can’t stay here tonight. Not until you have proper wards put in place. I can’t… leave you here alone like this.”

    “I will stay with Hermione and Ron,” Harry agreed. The nauseous churning in his stomach continued unabated, and only worsened after he cast his first Investigation Charm. “Seb. They used an Extendable Ear. They… they were _listening…”_

    “Breathe, Harry,” Sebastian urged.

    “No, Seb, what if it was a reporter? What if they found out where I lived and tomorrow our _private_ conversation will be in the newspapers? They'll try to find out who you are! You’ll _leave_ me!”

    “I won't. I swear I won’t. Just breathe, Harry, don’t let it get out of control. You're stronger than this, and I’m here. I’m not going anywhere; I’m right here.”

    “Don’t leave — I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m acting like this right now, I'm so sorry —  _please_ don’t leave…”

    “I won’t, Harry…” But his face was green, and fear was stamped into every square centimeter of his face.

 

 

    After calming down, finishing the investigative spells which turned up a definite signature for the Investigation Department to work with, and giving Prince extra owl treats for his traumatic afternoon, Harry contacted the warding office Sebastian had recommended.

    “I knew them -- before,” he’d said, not elaborating and Harry knew better than to pursue it. “They will do an adequate job.”

    He scheduled an appointment for them to come during their first open slot, which was luckily the next day. After that was handled, he finally Flooed Ron and Hermione’s.

    “Harry? Oh! And Sebastian! It’s so nice to see you again!”

    “You as well,” Sebastian said seriously. “Unfortunately, this is not a social call.”

    “Oh? What’s wrong?”

    “We need to speak with Ron, ‘Mione.”

    “But Harry, he’s not here. He got invited out to drinks with Ginny.”

    Harry and Sebastian regarded each other for a moment before Harry finally decided, “I have the report fully written and the spell results catalogued. I can wait for Ron to come by officially in the morning.”

    “It would be better to get the signature tested _now_ ,” the older man argued.

    “The rate of decay is negligible at Disapparition sites,” refuted Harry. “It will be okay overnight.”

    “Harry, something happened, didn’t it? Ron told me about the spell that had knocked you out of Apparition.”

    “Yeah, ‘Mione. Can I stay with you until I can get my apartment properly warded? It should just be until tomorrow, we already set an appointment.”

    “Of course Harry, come over whenever you’re ready.”

    “I’ll get some clothes for tomorrow and be over soon.”

    “See you.”

    When the floo closed, Harry went straight back into Sebastian’s arms without another word.

 

 

    Later that night, Harry was jolted awake by a commotion unfolding right next to him in Hermione’s living room. Ron, drunk and singing the Chudley Cannons fight song, emerged from the Floo well after dark. He jumped up to steady him, but Hermione scurried out of their bedroom in her pajamas and took his arm over her shoulder instead.

    “I’ve got this, Harry. You go back to sleep.”

    Harry was a little worried about how proficient Hermione was at wrangling an inebriated Ron.

 

 

     In the morning he brought Ron up to speed. The redhead had a hangover even Sober-Up couldn’t cure, but he came with Harry back to his apartment and took down an official report. He’d just cut an unattractive square out of Harry’s carpet to take to the Investigation Department when the warding team arrived. It took an uncomfortably large portion of his stipend form the Ministry to afford their services, but when it was done and he felt the oddly comforting blanket of magic over the entirety of his home, he knew it had been worth it.

 

 

     After revealing his difficult start to the week to Matilda, she regarded him worriedly.

    “Harry… why didn’t you send for the Aurors right away, like Sebastian wished? What was the decision behind that?”

    Harry shrugged, uncomfortable. “I wanted to wait for Ron to be available.”

    “But you could have gotten the Aurors into your home — following the trail of Disapparition, potentially — right away. Why did you want to put off taking care of yourself and your home overnight so that Ron could be the investigating Auror? What can he do that they can’t?”

    Harry set his mouth in a mulish line, not liking where this conversation was headed in the slightest.

    “I don’t often like to _tell_ my patients answers they might otherwise discover for themselves, but this time I feel so strongly that this is _the_ answer to the question of your recent increase in symptom intensity, I’m willing to go out on a limb and just spell it out.”

    Harry felt his negativity fade as she spoke with a confidence and pride he’d not seen from her before. She looked almost excited by her revelation.

    “You put off reaching out to the Auror Department for the same reason you had a panic attack when you thought Sebastian had said he didn’t think you were the right one for him. The same reason you passive-aggressively let your self-care fade for months so that you would appear _unattractive_ instead of just telling Ginny you didn't want to have sex with her. The _same_ reason when struck by Hermione and Ron’s betrayal months ago you decided to flee at first, instead of meeting them head-on. You have made a lot of progress here, and your triggers have lost their hold on you one by one, except one. The big one.”

    Harry was almost afraid to hear what she was winding up to.

    “You fear if you don’t give people what _you think_ they want, then they will abandon you. So you hold off until you can make sure Ron is the only one who helps you in these situations even though you _know_ he’s a fresh man in the field, you stayed in a sub-optimal relationship, slowly caving in on yourself so that you wouldn’t have to be the one to hurt her by walking away first, you held off on the hard conversation with Ron, especially, until you were sure they wouldn’t cut their losses with you, and _now,_ ” she said with emphasis, “you’re in an emotionally rewarding and currently physically _safe_ relationship with Sebastian, the very _hint_ that he might walk away sends you straight into a panic. You’re afraid of being abandoned by the ones you love.”

    “I don’t think abandoned is the right word,” Harry refuted, not disagreeing with the rest of her points. “It’s more… losing them. It being out of my control, or even out of  _their's_... and I’ve lost them.”

    Healer Matilda’s triumphant look had faded as soon as he had begun talking, and she smiled warmly now. “When was the first time you can remember feeling this way?”

    Harry tried not to groan.

 

 

     The next Saturday, near lunchtime, Harry knocked on a seafoam green door, one of the many identical doors on the hall. He’s been here once before, moving furniture and luggage close to a year ago now. He had one last delivery to make.

    “Harry?” Ginny’s face was filled with shock when she’d opened the door to see him there.

    “Hey, Gin.” he replied simply.

    “I heard someone broke into your house,” she said, face twisting in sympathy. “Have you come to stay here for a while?”

    “Oh, no, Gin.” Harry refuted instantly. “I’m here with the last of your stuff. I’ve finally got it all, I think. It’s time for it to go back to you.”

    Ginny stared down at the contents of the potions crate in his hands.

    “I should have returned it a long time ago,” he said apologetically. “I found out recently… I’ve avoided confrontation at different times with several people. This is another one of the way’s I’ve put off dealing with something difficult.” He offered her the box, but she stepped back in horror.

    “I can’t accept it,” she whispered, eyes rapidly filling with tears. “If I take it, it means we’re over, doesn’t it? Harry, I still think we’re meant to be together. We can fix this!”

    “Ginny,” Harry asserted calmly, “I have moved on. I am in love with someone else. We are not going to get back together.”

    Ginny rocked back as if she’d been slapped. Her gaze slid down to the box in his arms again, then back to his face.

    “I’m sorry, G—”

    “You should have stayed dead.”

    Now Harry was the one reeling in shock. He knew Ginny had a temper, but the flatly delivered line coming from her sweet-looking face had him completely thrown. Ginny knew _everything_ about the final battle. Of course she did, in late nights spent with their heads and bodies together he'd spilled it all, including how coming back hadn't been a choice that he particularly wanted to make.

    In that moment, oddly enough, he could only think of Sebastian and how he would have reacted in the same situation. He'd made mention of misplaced anger in his past, but somehow he couldn’t imagine the man he knew _now_ ever saying anything so cruel to someone in recovery as he was, even at his angriest. Perhaps _especially_ at his angriest — since so far he’d just demanded immediate explanations when things hadn’t gone his way.

    Ginny’s face looked miserable now, though even if she felt regret, she still didn’t take her words back. Harry placed the box outside her door by his feet, and bid her goodbye.

    “Bye, Ginny.”

    He heard her weeping, but he had somewhere else he wanted to be. Somewhere warm, where the early spring chill and the ice of his ex's words couldn't hope to reach him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year to you and yours!
> 
> I edited and added and twitched and erased a bunch in this chapter before feeling it was in the right shape to post it.
> 
> I think maybe the dissatisfaction came from the thought that I should have put another chapter between this one and the last, of Harry reading the book and having private revelations, of thinking and imagining and blushing prettily during art therapy. But at this point... I've moved on. I've been digging quite hard into my 'A/B/O Thing' (that's literally the working title right now) and I'm twelve chapters in on that project. I've been thinking I might write and release some one-shot snippets (including the missing moment Harry read through the book) instead of writing an epilogue for this one. I mean... I have a written epilogue already, but I know it sucks (the writing — hopefully not the contents, which will stay the same) and I know I will have to completely cut it anyway.
> 
> Anyway, that's just a bit of rambling. Interesting fact about me: after releasing the last chapter that had a panic attack in it, I had another one. Two days later, for no reason at all, at three or four in the morning. I read fanfiction and kept my fingers on my pulse, breathing as steady as possible and tried to ignore the urge to call an ambulance until my meds kicked in. The next day, in the early afternoon, I felt the veerry edge of another one creeping in and I took my medicine and hid in bed until it chilled the fuck out of my body. I don't know where it is coming from, but still, interesting.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As time passes, some things stay the same, and some things change.

# Chapter Seventeen

    Harry confessed his trip to Ginny’s as soon as he laid eyes on Sebastian. He relayed the reason why he went, and everything that was said while he was there, and at the end asked if Sebastian was okay with his decision to go. It was another successful exercise in communication, and Harry felt like they _both_ ended the conversation feeling respected by the other — that their needs were looked after. It drove home how much better he was with this man, instead of his ex.

    Conversely, an irate Ron showed up in his Floo the day after he’d returned Ginny’s things. Harry sighed, and let the protective older brother blow off steam for a while before he calmly told the redhead his — rather truer — side of what happened. Going even further, he told Ron once and for all that he realized he was fully gay and would never get back with Ginny, lead her on, nor break her heart ever again. His effective session with Matilda gave him what he needed to push past his fear of losing his best friend in order to come out and be his true self in that moment. After, he told the whey-faced Ron that he would respect his decision whether they would still remain friends, to which the Auror blustered that 'of _course_ they would remain friends,' but he might need need more time to get used to the now-irrefutable fact his friend was into men.

    The Aurors reported that the signature on his carpet was untraceable.They didn’t know how it could be, but the unique markers left by whoever had been in his bedroom constantly shifted every time they ran the test, making each result seem less trustworthy than the last. Ron told him privately that since the intruder had broken into 'Harry Potter’s' home — and could be behind the other spell that shot him out of Apparition — he was considered a high priority criminal and they had passed the carpet square to the Department of Mysteries for further inspection. They told Harry directly that they would follow up on the investigation, but Ron revealed to Harry that in their water-cooler gossip they didn’t think the break-in would be solved unless the culprit acted out again and they were able to collect better evidence.

    As weeks passed and no exposés on the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Be-Gay made their way to the papers, Harry and Sebastian relaxed back into their routine of tea and dinner on Mondays and easy companionship while they worked on their separate projects during the week. Harry adored their time together, and at the end of every week he looked back and smiled. Warmth and happiness were now his constant companions, an unusually pleasant situation that made working on triggers with Matilda difficult, because he was otherwise so content.

    Sebastian finished his painting for the Ospedale Magico, and upon the successful confirmation of sale they went out on their second dinner out in the Muggle world. This time to one of the only _quiet_ gay-friendly locations in Soho, where they enjoyed sandwiches and he convinced Seb to drink soda. Seb hated the way it tickled his nose, and Harry laughed at the faces he made trying to choke it down.

    They kept to their careful rules about physical touch, but one day when Harry had been bent over his work for a long while, he bravely turned his body so that he could stretch out his socked feet against the warmth of Sebastian’s side. When the man simply raised an eyebrow at him and tucked the feet more firmly into his hip, Harry hid his dopey grin behind his ever-thickening binder.

    With things calm the way they were, Harry didn’t notice for two weeks that Sebastian was hiding something from him. When the third visit in a row was cut short before dinner, Harry finally demanded to know what’s wrong.

    “I don’t want to worry you,” Sebastian delayed.

    “Well, you’re ‘worrying’ me by acting like — and now _telling_ me — there’s something to worry about!”

    “There was an issue with the supplier for the lacewings I use to make the Polyjuice,” he finally confessed. “The climate control spells failed and their entire crop died. I’ve had to ration out my potion so that I don’t run out before they can supply more, and it takes a month after that to stew them, and brew. I didn’t want you to think we couldn’t be together, and have a bad reaction.”

    “I’m not _fragile,_ ” Harry seethed. “Don’t you _dare —_ you of all people! —  _dare_ to treat me like I’m _broken!”_

    “I am sorry,” Sebastian replied in a clear voice. “That wasn’t my intention.”

    Harry’s ire deflated, but he was still dealing with residual upset. “I hate it when people decide for me whether or not I can handle something.” At Sebastian’s quick inhale, he continued, “ _Yeah_ , I know you remember all the times people didn’t think I was ready to know something and then people _died_ due to my actions. I need you to be truthful with me and we can work out how to handle issues _together._ It’s much better than being kicked out with a smile.”

    “You are right, love. My only explanation is… I still worry that the dimensions to our relationship are so new, and indeed _fragile_ , that any small setback may interrupt your recovery. You have come so far in the time I have known you. It would kill me to be a part of something that opens wounds you’ve worked so hard to seal.”

    “I’m _fine_ ,” insisted Harry. “I am a _man_ , not a child, not an _invalid_. I need you to treat me like one, so that I know you _respect_ me as one.”

    “You are truly fine?”

    “Yes, Seb. I can handle things like this... I know our relationship is unique, I'm ready for the difficulties. The only complaint I have these days is about the rules which keep us apart,” he grumbled. “I swear I walk around with a half-chub twenty-four-seven these days.”

    Sebastian made a choked half-laugh, before clearing his throat. “Indeed. If it is painful, we _can_ take that trip to Knockturn to order the custom tube for you to use.”

    Harry’s vision greyed out for a second as all of his blood made the swift decision to re-route itself to his penis. “Would you like for _me_ to make one for _you_?” His voice scratched it’s way out embarrassingly, but he was too interested in whatever the answer might be to care.

    “No, I don’t think I would,” Sebastian replied slowly, showing that he was still thinking with his higher brain. Harry frowned, following him into rationality.

    “Why not?”

    “I would want the first time I see you, feel you, to be with the real you,” the older man said honestly. Harry felt his distraction fade completely as he realized the importance of what Sebastian had said.

    “Wow, yeah, you’re right. I definitely wouldn't want to have a plastic — or whatever magical substance — Seb without you having consented to being with me _fully_ first. Even if it’s willingly given it just feels…” He shuddered and the last of his arousal fled. “— wrong. Wrong to know what your body looks like when you haven’t even shown it to me.”

    Sebastian took his hand with a warm smile. “Don’t work yourself up.”

    “Sorry, I think I’m okay. I didn’t expect that rush of anxiety. It went away just as quickly, though.”

    “Correct me if I guess your emotions wrong, but it feels good to think you might care about me so much.”

    “I love you,” Harry replied honestly. He heard Sebastian’s soft gasp, and continued. “I know you said love isn’t enough, so I know that saying that doesn’t change the rules between us… at least until I’m ready to commit forever. But it’s there, all the same.”

    “I love you as well,” Sebastian said roughly. “I am content to wait.”

    “Despite the constant half-chub?” Harry teased. He quite politely didn’t mention the obvious shine to the other man’s eyes as he laughed along.

    Confessing his feelings both soothed something in Harry that had needed to be free, and yet also made the enforced distance between them even more painful to bear. It wasn't just the blue-balls, he wanted to hold Sebastian close every time he saw the other man. He found himself distracted from his research and planning just _staring_ at the other man's mouth. He wanted to be free to use his body to show the other man the feelings he was only allowed to express verbally.

    One day as he was gathering his things to leave after a comfortable day of work and a delicious dinner they'd prepared together, Sebastian stopped him and placed a small, but heavy cobalt-blue glass jar in his hand.

    “For me? What is it?” Harry asked curiously.

    “It took me awhile to make. I have grown so used to Polyjuice and animating potions that I have forgotten how to properly experiment.” Sebastian reached between them and unscrewed the lid of the jar, revealing a thick, translucent paste that smelled fresh but also somehow warm. “I am sorry that it has taken me this long... since we spoke of how difficult it was to be apart. We decided not to substitute with toys, but I felt inspired not to leave you completely empty-handed. This is a vat of lube, custom made by me with only you in my mind.”

    Harry stared down at it, amazed, honored, and slightly confused. “It looks so... solid,” he commented curiously.

    “Swipe your finger across the top,” Sebastian encouraged.

    Harry did as requested, and was agog at how the contents melted fluidly around his finger. When he raised his hand the lube dripped back down into the pot, each drop plopping as if it were a gloppy substance once again. He rubbed his thumb and slick fingers together and marveled at the smooth glide that didn't prevent him from feeling the unique texture of his fingerprints against each other.

    “It is safe to use rectally as well,” the older man commented innocently.

    Harry raised his eyebrow, an expression he'd learned from the other man. “Do you expect for me to use it that way?” His tone was openly curious and the other man looked a little uncomfortable as he wrestled with what to say.

    Harry, who by now was very familiar with the expression Sebastian wore when he was trying to avoid upsetting him, decided to speak again before the other man could potentially back down. “What is it, Seb?”

    “I find that, when it comes to you, I am even more of a jealous wretch than usual,” he confessed. “I… don't want any phallus to know the heat of your body before I can.”

    Harry closed his eyes as arousal swooped through his belly with surprising intensity. Southwards, his pelvis warmed and his length tightened ever further. “What about fingers? Mine, of course.” he husked, though when he looked into Sebastian's eyes he could only imagine the other man's hand instead, touching him while staring back at him just like that.

    “That is… of course… up to you. I am not… opposed.” Sebastian held his gaze with something like awe, until Harry nervously looked back down to fasten the lid back on the pot again. Harry opened his mouth to squeak out a cowardly goodbye, when a sudden worrying thought popped into his mind.

    “Seb,” he said as the other man gently _Scourgified_ his slippery fingers.

    “Mmhmm?” he replied, sliding their fingers together seemingly to check their cleanliness, but the caress was so warm and slow that Harry thought the touch was more about personal enjoyment.

    “You made this for me so that I could leave you here alone and enjoy myself without you.”

    “Yes…” Sebastian's tone was edging on this side of ridicule, and he knew that the older man thought Harry was saying something too obvious, or perhaps _unpleasant_ to have needed to be said out loud.

    “Isn't this becoming too much like a soley romantic relationship?” Harry squeezed his hands around his gift, feeling a prickling in his arms as the weight of his worries pressed in on him.

    “The thought had occurred to me, but I am not concerned, and nor should you be.”

    “Why not?” Harry demanded, trying to keep his breathing steady. “Why not worry about the _one_ thing which caused you _so much pain_ for deca—”

    Sebastian's mouth was on his. Sebastian's _face_ was close to his, and his mouth was moving — moving on  _his —_ and with a gasp of realization Harry _jumped_ into the other man's arms to return the gesture. As their lips tasted and their tongues slid and  _felt,_  Harry thought that his whole being might be falling into the other man through their connected mouths. Almost without his say-so his hands scrabbled and tugged at the other man to get more of that connection, more closeness, _more_. He hadn't even realized Sebastian had carried him backwards — or that his legs were wrapped tightly around the other man, demanding _everything —_ until his back hit a painting-clad wall and their bodies were pressed fully, deliciously together.

    Still it wasn't enough, until Harry let out a garbled cry as their pelvises crashed together too. It was too hard with Harry's zipper between them, and their crossed erections hurt as they bent perpendicular against each other but if Sebastian pressed any _less_ firmly he might scream at the man to _stop being a pussy_ and then the older man _sucked_ _on his neck_ and used _teeth_ and then — he backed away.

    “ _That's_ why I'm not worried,” Seb growled hoarsely. “We've known for months there's a physical connection, here, too. _This_ is why I'm content to wait. Why I'm not afraid of this turning out to be a sexless love match again.”

    “I love you, Seb.” Harry's voice was choked with tears of relief and desperate yearning. He  _wanted_ so badly right then.

    Sebastian's forehead rested against his. “I love you too,” he replied. “Now go, before I lose my willpower and ravish you before the proper time for such things.”

    Harry felt the heat pulse inside himself again and knew it wasn't an idle warning for either of them. “I think I dropped the jar, is it okay?”

    “ _Accio!_ There it is love, not a scratch. I put an Unbreakable charm on it just in case it was handled with slippery hands.”

    “Good idea.”

    They shared their traditional goodbye hug, though this one lasted a little longer, and they may have held each other a little tighter than usual, reluctant for the physical intimacy to be well and truly over.

    As soon as Harry landed in his front hall, he shucked off his robes and hastily unfastened the jeans he'd worn that day. Kneeling on the floor, after a quick slap at the contents of his present, Harry took himself in hand and set a furious pace, whimpering and reliving the devastating reality of Sebastian's kiss all the way up to the explosive finish, teetering until he fell onto his free hand.

    “That's enough,” he declared in the clarity afterwards. “Enough distance, enough torture. He is _mine._ ” He cast a cleaning charm on the splattered linoleum, picked up his useful present, and stomped his way to a cleansing shower.

    Cleaning up alone after wanking himself off in the front hall was a desolate experience. “He is mine,” he repeated to himself when the sadness got to be too much. “It's been long enough. It's enough.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)
> 
> I really, really hope you enjoyed the second half. The first half... meh, "seasons change, time passes by" kinda stuff, but the end... *wiggles eyebrows* I like reading it slowly and letting all the juiciness take me away <3
> 
> As far as the lube scent, imagine the warmth of cloves, and the light fresh scent of lemongrass, but somehow not clashing, haha. Appearance similar to vaseline (translucent) but a whiter, greener tint instead of petroleum yellow.


	18. Chapter 18

# Chapter Eighteen

    “So… how are things between you and Sebastian?”

    Harry felt his face heat a little, and Dean leaned back and fanned himself at the sight of the reminiscent smile curving around his lips.

    “ _Okay_ , then,” he said without waiting for an answer. Harry covered a secret-revealing grin and picked through their basket of chips to see if they'd missed any pieces of fried fish. Eventually he settled for dipping a chip in the tartar sauce instead.

    “You know, I would never have pegged you as someone who liked other boys at school, no pun intended.”

    Harry frowned, not hearing the pun there, but shrugged and answered anyway. “I wouldn't have either. I just looked where I thought was the right place to look, and when I felt some kind of connection I followed it.”

    “But it's not like that with Sebastian?” Dean was watching him carefully, and Harry recalled how seriously he'd taken Harry's self discovery after he'd known that he was hanging out with Sebastian.

    Harry nodded in agreement, a slight lump forming in his throat. “Ah, yeah, actually, not like that at all. I, uh, was wondering if you could give me some information about that.”

 

 

  “How was your time with Dean?”

    Harry smiled, proud of the curious, but unconcerned lilt to his love’s voice. “It went really well, actually. We had some really good conversation.” He frowned. “And some really _sad_ conversation. He told me the reason why he'd been so concerned about us in the beginning. Apparently he was in a relationship with his best _friend_ who ran scared when Dean proposed. Moved out, left the country, and everything. Since we started as 'just friends,' he was worried it was happening again, to you.”

    “It is not an uncommon occurrence, unfortunately.”

    “It was really difficult for him to talk about. I remember when Seamus — the guy — moved away… I had no clue. And the rest of the guys were avoiding him too. Two and a half years, and he still is dealing with that pain. I feel guilty, even though we weren't close.”

    “ _That_ is because you are a good person. It is good for a young gay man to have like-minded friends in this world. Dean may be a good one for you.”

    “You would be okay with that even though he’s also gay?”

    Sebastian put his tea down and regarded Harry seriously. “Harry, do you know why your friends abandoned Dean? Why Ron still has a hard time accepting this part of you?”

    “They found out he was gay… Ron thought I was going to be attacked at first, I don’t know what’s going on with him now.”

    “It is the fear of a _predatory_ gay man. The idea that we, as men who like men, cannot control ourselves and will attack or otherwise manipulate them into a compromising position that they themselves do not want and cannot control. I _am_ a jealous man, but I am not so irrational as that. If you tell me ahead of time who you are with, and tell me every time something I wouldn’t like happens — so we have open communication about the event — and I don’t find out later that you’d been hiding time spent with each other, then I will _trust_ you both.”

    Harry frowned. “What if we’re out getting a Christmas present for you? I’m not going to tell you what we were doing then; I like surprises.”

    “Harry, you misunderstand me… you don’t have to _report_ to me every little detail. Let me know when someone crosses a line — if they try to kiss you or touch you as only a partner should. Let me know if there's an attraction — there _will_ be with _someone_ , one day, it's natural, don't argue — and I'll know you aren't afraid to share your whole self with me. Just don’t _surprise_ me with things you’ve done with other men, or I'll worry about what else you haven't told me. Or with women, come to think of it.” Sebastian frowned as if just realizing he’d have to worry about both genders.

    “I’ve told Ron, I should _probably_ mention to you too,” Harry began shyly, “— I have realized that I am fully gay. So, you probably don’t have to waste any time worrying about lady friends or fake vaginas in the toy box.”

    “Thank goodness,” Sebastian drawled, but Harry could tell it actually _was_ a relief, and not pure sarcasm.

    “It’s strange to think how I never knew,” Harry mused. “I thought the romantic connection was all there was. Damn, did that kiss last week blow _me_ out of the water.”

    “Oh, it did, did it?” Sebastian’s eyes glinted at him over the rim of his mug, and Harry’s chest caught at the sudden rush it gave him.

 _‘I could tell him now,’_ he thought, eyes dropping to Sebastian’s lips as the man licked a stray drop away. Sexy bastard knew _exactly_ what he was doing. _‘I could tell him that I’ve made my choice and I could lead him into the bedroom and then we could—’_

    “You are staring at me like I am the last case of Butterbeer in the UK,” Sebastian murmured. “I quite like it.”

    Harry’s inner monologue continued unfettered. _‘— But then, could I really ask him now, here in my kitchen, randy as a teenager? No, he would definitely see through it and know I’m just thinking about getting in his pants. He would be pissed to have his feelings used like that—’_

    Sebastian’s eyebrows speared down. “However, I don’t like _that_ look. Harry? Where’s your mind gone?”

 _‘Could you imagine if he thought I would throw away all our progress just like that? It would be just like the first time I mentioned testing out my attraction to men with him, only_ so _much worse —’_

    “Alright, that’s enough of whatever it is you’re thinking of. Breathe, Harry.” Sebastian’s voice was stern.

    “... Think I’ve done it to myself again,” Harry wheezed in return.

    “Alright, love. Head between your knees. Here I come.” Sebastian left his side of the table to kneel at Harry's feet and rest his forehead on the back of Harry’s neck. “In… hold… out. I’d love to know what you were thinking.”

    Harry shook his head adamantly and Sebastian sighed. “In… hold… out.” The older man’s hands rubbed his back firmly, and even though he could _tell_  Seb was disappointed in Harry’s refusal to share, he could also feel his worry as well.

    This attack was not as all-consuming as the other two, barely more than the anxiety swells he used to get on daily basis. If it hadn’t been for his lungs choking him out, he might have been able to tell the difference between the attack and a particularly bad trigger. It only took five breathing cycles for Harry to wrest control back over his body.

    “I still worry that our closer relationship is making things worse for you.” Sebastian said. The position they were in meant that Harry was looking down into the his face, an entirely new perspective since Harry was a full head shorter.

    “I only have difficulties these days when it comes to the thought of losing you.” Sebastian's hands rested around the back of his neck, and Harry lifted his hands to pinch Seb's dangling robe sleeves between his fingers. Like this, he wasn't breaking their rules like Seb so blatantly was, but it also soothed the part of him that just wanted to cling onto the other man and not let go.

    “Is that… truly accurate?”

    ‘“ _Yes_. Seb, I —’”

    “I won't accept a decision mid-panic attack.” Sebastian interrupted firmly, somehow guessing _exactly_ what Harry had been planning on saying. “We can revisit this topic at a time when you are free of anxiety.”

    “Even at this stage in my recovery, I am never,  _ever_ completely free of anxiety.” Harry rebuked lightly, feeling the slight sting of rejection. If he hadn't been so completely sure of Sebastian's affections the slight pain might have sent him back into the attack again. “But I understand the sentiment,” he sighed.

    “I can feel that our relationship is on the precipice of changing,” Seb said quietly, sliding his hands down Harry’s shoulders to squeeze the younger man's hands in his own. “It could all go so wrong.”

    “Ow, love,” Harry warned, shaking their hands slightly. “I get it. I will respect your wishes. When I get there, you will have no doubts that I am serious and undistracted.” Sebastian brought Harry’s hands up to his forehead to hide the fear clearly showing on his face, then down to his lips to kiss where he’d gripped too tightly.

    Harry’s heart ached to see his normally-reserved love display so much emotion. “It will be alright,” he assured Sebastian softly.

 

 

  “Now,” Healer Matilda said after pouring their tea, “— how has your week been? Actually — let's do it this way: what has gone well this week?”

    “I went out with my friend Dean on Thursday,” Harry said slowly. “Sebastian didn't get jealous and we had good conversation.”

    “Hmm. How do you know that? How do you know Sebastian wasn't jealous?”

    “Well, you knew last week that I had checked with him before going and he was fine with it.” Matilda nodded supportively. “The next time we met — Monday, for tea — he asked about it and he didn't seem anything other than curious. The same way he acts when he knows I’ve seen my boss or even you.”

    “Were you able to talk about your time with Dean, then? How did Sebastian respond?”

    “Yeah,” Harry shrugged. “It was fine. He said it was important to have 'like-minded friends as a young gay man,’ or something to that effect.”

    “Wow, that seems rather reasonable for a man who called himself a—” She flipped through her notebooks. “— a ‘jealous wretch.’”

    “Yeah… I was worried about his reaction, but then when he reacted that way I also wasn't _surprised_. It seems like he always reacts just the way I need him to.”

    “It's a rare thing, what you two have. Any relationship can decay without proper care, but you both started your relationship with the intention of learning each other from the inside-out, rather than the outside-in. Personally or professionally, I have never seen anything like it before.”

    “I don't want to screw it up,” Harry confessed. “I know he loves me, and he knows I love him. We're both just waiting on me to take it to the next step, and _Merlin_ , do I _want_ to go there! But I still panic when I think of it going badly, and him getting hurt.”

    “Well,” she replied, setting her quill and notebook to the side. “Let's work on getting some positive resources for you to draw on instead, okay?”

    “Not too many cheering charms,” warned Harry. “Last time he definitely noticed.”

    Healer Matilda giggled, and agreed.

 

 

‘Dear Seb,

    ‘After my appointment this morning I put my adult pants on and finally turned in my proposal to Madame Droope. Thanks again for helping me put my binder in order… they noticed the tabs right away! They still have to look through it and will probably have lots of adjustments of their own, but I feel like celebrating. Can I take you out to a fancy Muggle dinner on Saturday and spoil you rotten? I owe all my success to the tea and biscuits you supplied me with while I hogged your reading lamp.

‘Yours,

‘Harry

‘P.S. If this letter seems a little off, it's because Matilda used Cheering Charms on me again.’

 

 

'Harry,

    'Were you not planning on seeing me before Saturday, that you couldn't ask me in person? I suppose now that your proposal is delivered you no longer have need of my superior tea-serving skills and I shan't ever see you again. (I'm just kidding, love, congratulations.)

    'I would love to go to dinner with you on Saturday, though I don't know why _I_ shouldn't be the one to spoil _you_ instead. However, if you insist, I shall let you have your way. See how I did that? Now _I'm_ the one who is spoiling _you_ by letting you do what you want with me. I believe that deserves a point for exceptional cleverness to House of Sebastian, doesn't it?

'I'm proud of you, love.

'Yours,

'Sebastian'

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note for those who have been following along so far, in the beginning of the story (chapter five maybe?) when Harry apologizes for accidentally freezing out Dean and then Dean says "It’s alright, Harry. I didn’t realize you didn’t know I was gay." I have changed that last bit into "didn't realize you didn't know I was *into men."*
> 
> This is the only change I've made, those two words, and it has absolutely no effect on *this* story. Harry's perception is still that Dean is Kinsey 6. But if I have already written a one-shot spin-off from this universe that declares quite loudly and roughly otherwise... don't get mad ;) It'll get posted after this story is complete with any other snippets and epilogue one-shots I come up with.
> 
> The next chapter is a good one! Get your heart ready!


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry takes Sebastian to dinner to celebrate finishing his proposal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love you all. I just wanted to say that before you read this chapter. It's a gift, I feel, but I don't know to who. Definitely it is a gift to me, if you like it, it will be a gift for you as well. ;) Enjoy-enjoy-enjoy-enjoyyyy!

# Chapter Nineteen

    After dancing around his living room with how _free_ Sebastian's letter had sounded — Points! He'd made a joke about points! — Harry sent off a final letter apologizing, and saying that he had some ‘extra considerations’ he needed to research at the Muggle library and would only be able to see him at art therapy on Friday. It was almost painful to send the letter; they had spent some part of almost every day together for the past several weeks — thank Merlin for Seb finding a competitor lacewing fly farm to source from.

    Even so, Harry kept his head down and set to work, and when he was back home Thursday with nothing else on his plate for the day, he sent Prince to Sebastian with a short note telling how much he'd missed him.

    Friday was exhausting. He spent some time at the Ministry, a _lot_ of time in Diagon Alley, and was relieved when at last it was time for him to slow down and relax in his place next to Seb.

    “You look disheveled,” the older man remarked idly.

    “Busy day,” Harry agreed vaguely, taking a moment to attempt to flatten his hair.

    “Hmm.”

    “I'm looking forward to dinner tomorrow. I've made reservations.”

    Sebastian sent him a genuine smile as Dean called the session to order.

 

 

   “Hey! Ready to go?”

    “You just Apparated in, give me a moment,” groused Sebastian good-naturedly.

    “Well, we have about three minutes left before this thing goes off, so…”

    “You bought a portkey? You're only picking me up _now?_ ”

    “Yes, yes, yes, I'm a foolish Gryffindor, now come put your hands on my pole.”

    “... Did you request this item specifically to make that joke?”

    “No, but it's a good one, right?”

    “Well, I'll give points for enthusiasm at least…”

    “Points to the House of Potter?” Harry teased. “If you only gave yourself _one_ point in your letter, does that mean that I'm in the lead? What's the prize? Your House Cup?”

    “You are obviously in a very pert mood tonight.”

    “No Cheering Charms this time, either. _Tempus._ Okay should be right about—”

    Hooks yanked behind their navels, and they bumped alongside each other until they finally landed in a dark, gated alleyway.

    “Alright, they said to leave this here,” Harry said as he laid the pipe on the ground. “— and we have to close that gate up behind us. Let's go and you can see where we are.”

    Harry lifted the latch and stepped out into the busy urban street. Buskers played music a few blocks down, but it was so far away Harry could only make out that it was some sort of string instrument in use.

    “Point Me,” he whispered, holding his wand low and out of sight. Following the direction it pointed, he tucked it away again and smiled at Sebastian, who was frowning as he tried to figure out where they were. “Got it yet?”

    Sebastian opened his mouth to reply, but then they passed their first storefront and he caught sight of the signage. “France? You took _me_ to France to celebrate finishing _your_ proposal?”

    “Something like that,” Harry confirmed. “Come on, my wand says the Bastille is this way, and the restaurant is on the other side.”

    Despite Sebastian's initial ribbing, they walked companionably the short distance to the roundabout encircling the monument. There, they stood by and watched the cars circle by in the dusk for a few minutes, before Harry tugged on Sebastian’s sleeve and they began walking around.

    Harry got a little confused about which street they were supposed to turn off on, and used Sebastian as a shield to use the Point Me spell again. From there, finding the restaurant was easy enough, and they were seated immediately after Harry gave his name. The inside of the restaurant was rather small, with comfortable booth style seating and the person who seated them was revealed to be the owner.

    Harry ordered duck, Sebastian ordered fish, and Harry requested the chef to choose appropriate wines to go with their meals. When they were alone again and Harry slid his hand across the table, silently requesting to hold Sebastian's, he was gifted with a quizzical look.

    “This is a little more homey than I had been thinking when I was looking for a ‘fancy’ place to eat, but the reviews are great and it's close to our next destinations,” Harry informed him apologetically.

    “I have little care for appearances,” Sebastian replied plainly, taking Harry's hand as desired. “I shall judge your choice based on the taste of the food and the entertainment value of my date, fair?”

    “Oh, dear, now I have to be _entertaining_ ,” Harry sighed dramatically.

    “Somehow I think you'll manage,” the other man replied wryly. Harry smiled back and entwined their fingers together.

    “I love you, Seb.”

    Sebastian's eyebrows rose, but he repeated the sentiment dutifully.

 

 

   Sebastian graded the food highly after it arrived. Harry had been reluctant to let his hand go so they could eat it, so in exchange he hooked his foot around Seb's and grinned when the other man allowed the contact. They kept the conversation light, but Harry took a few opportunities to pepper in shared memories of theirs, or bring old jokes back to life.

    When it came time to leave, Harry's middle was full of warmth brought about by the wine and love for his date. So far things were going well, and he was excited to keep the night going.

    It was several blocks of chilly walking to Paris’ Marais district. There, Harry threaded his arm through Sebastian's and leant his head on the taller man's shoulder while they walked along the street that was filled with flashily dressed twenty-something's and several same-sex couples just like them.

    “I didn't have a plan for this part,” admitted Harry softly. “I just wanted to come here and hold onto you in public, where we don't have to worry about being hurt or reported on.”

    Sebastian paused to take a searching look in his eyes, then seemed to accept whatever he found there and stroked a hand across Harry's cheek. Harry nuzzled into it, and then spotted an ice cream place in the direction he'd turned his head. “Share an ice cream with me? I'm still pretty full, but I don't want to just walk through.”

    The ice cream took _almost_ all of his remaining money, which was good because the rest of his plans didn't require any more, and he didn't want to visit the Gringotts exchange desk when they got back. Sebastian held onto their cone and Harry held onto him, and they people-watched contentedly between bites.

    “Ready?” Sebastian asked quietly, after they'd tossed the napkins.

    “Yes,” Harry replied.

    Harry remembered the general direction from looking at maps online at the library, and when they broke out of the shadows of the Marais buildings and the sparkling Seine and lit-up Notre Dame came into view he felt a surge of victory at not having to use his wand again.

    “I don't have any more Euros to go inside,” Harry confessed, “— but I was thinking we might walk around the outside, anyway. Would you like to head over there?”

    “As long as you come with me,” Sebastian replied lightly. Harry squeezed his arm, but as they left the iconic gay neighborhood he decided to let go of the other man as they walked, just in case. He was thankful as they crossed both bridges over the river that there wasn't any smell other than a normal freshwater odor. Some of the information he'd seen online mentioned a rank smell which seemed to not be the case that night.

    They marveled with the crowd at the building which was much smaller than Hogwarts, of course, but much more intricate in decoration. After pointing out a few points of interest back and forth, Harry gave Sebastian's arm a gentle tug, and they headed around the back where he'd read there was a garden. He didn't know quite what to expect, and was pleased when the manicured park was mostly empty at that time of night. Still, he took Sebastian even further away from the other tourists to be completely alone, and sat next to him on a stone bench in the dark and quiet.

    “Thank you for coming with me to Paris. Did I spoil you adequately?” Harry asked quietly. He took Sebastian's hand in his, and on his other side, slid his fingers into his pocket.

    “I am incredibly spoiled,” Sebastian replied lightly. “I shall be an absolute nightmare from now on, mark my words.”

    “I'm not unused to nightmares,” Harry countered, voice still as gentle as he could make it. Sebastian was the soft one, he was not used to pitching his voice just so. “I handle my own frequently enough, and I think I could handle yours. If you'll have me?”

    Harry placed the back of his hand on top of their joined ones, and in his palm laid a square, black velvet box, with a shiny silver line tracing around the seam.

    “Harry — what…?” Sebastian's mouth hung open. Despite whatever suspicions he'd had because of Harry's odd behavior, he clearly hadn't been expecting what the box, and his words, indicated.

    Harry slid off the bench onto his knees, not wanting to risk falling over if he attempted to properly kneel on the loose gravel path. The moment was too important. He opened the box to reveal a silver band, the curve of its surface gently textured with hammer marks.

    “You said you were waiting for a commitment. I know you probably meant a verbal one, but I'd like to offer you all of me, officially. When I clumsily asked you to be my friend I had no idea how deeply your friendship would affect me. I had no clue after only a few short _weeks_ how deeply your care and humor would _attract_ me. You make me happier than anyone else on the entire planet — just sitting next to you gives me such a feeling of comfort and home that I've never known before. I am _done_ with the spaces between us. I want to be one with you _forever_. Er — and I know that sounds dirty, but I don't mean it that way, but also I really, _really_ do, and I've run out of script here so will you _please_ make me the absolutely _happiest_ wizard in all of France, the UK, and Italy and agree to marry me?”

    “Yes.”

    The reply came out cracked and broken but it was _there_ and Harry shot up — Sebastian did too, and the kiss that followed was warm and soft and still vanilla-sweet like their ice cream, but no less intense for all the emotion they poured into each other through it. As his happiness reached its peak, Harry laughed into Seb's mouth, and then the other man joined in until they were just holding onto each other, chuckling and trying not to be the first to cry.

    When they settled, forehead to forehead, Sebastian ran a hand through Harry's hair, and placed a kiss to his nose. “I thought I was going to be the one to ask that question one day.”

    “I'm sorry for stealing your thunder," Harry said, smiling easily even though his cheek muscles were burning from all the effort they'd already made that evening. "Would you like to put on the ring? I requested a Flexible Resizing Charm so it will fit even when your fingers change between this form and your genetic one.”

    "I honestly had forgotten about it," the man said, reluctantly pulling far enough away that his hand could hover between them.

    After Harry slid the ring on his finger — and it really did resize itself smoothly down the contours of his finger — they shared another lingering kiss, beyond content to hold one another in a way they had denying themselves for so long.

   "Do you like the ring? It's simple, which I thought you'd _need_ , but the texture reminded me of the natural way you decorated your home right away."

    "It is perfect. I am beyond pleased there are no sparkly baubles glittering out of it."

    Harry laughed. "I saw those. I thought they would not suit you at all. Nor me, if you ever get the odd idea that I need some sort of bling."

    Sebastian snorted. "I love you, Harry."

    Harry beamed back at him. "I love you too." It was easy and natural for their lips to meet again, both sighing out their pleasure... now they could kiss and touch as soon as they had the idea for it. It was heaven. Harry's heart burned with gratefulness. He didn't know one could feel so much from a simple kiss. _Truly_ simple — their hands were around each other chastely, lightly, and all the fire was solely within their souls, not their actions.

    “We need to get to a more hidden location,” Harry murmured finally. “We don't have much time before the return portkey.”

    “Do we have to go back to the one we came in with?” Sebastian asked, nipping at his lips between words and threading his hands through the younger man's hair. A lick of heat traveled a little further south than Harry's chest... awakening his hands to grip a little harder, his body to press in a little deeper.

    “Nope, gotta glove in my pocket. Don't have to return it.” Harry tilted his head a little and their lips sealed a little more perfectly. He moaned out his next breath, and Sebastian rewarded his enjoyment with a slip of his tongue.

    “Can I take you home?” the older man said against his lips. “Upstairs, where you've never been?”

    Harry pulled him even more closely, hissing “Yessss, _please,_ ” into his mouth as he did so. He felt the other man reach into his trouser pocket, and by that point he was randy enough that he didn't care _which_ of his wands the other man might be trying to find. Instead, after the man pulled back out of his pants, he felt the fabric of the ratty portkey on the skin of his neck.

    “Don't want to stop,” mumbled Harry, pushing the collar of Sebastian's shirt aside to mouth at his neck for a moment before the draw to return to his mouth was too great to ignore.

    “I didn't either,” he replied, pressing the glove into his skin more firmly as an explanation. Their mouths hungrily met again, and right on cue the familiar pull of the portkey took them away.

    Getting the bloody nose during transit was not ideal, but luckily Sebastian was handy with _episkey_ and _tergeo,_ and they definitely learned their lesson for the next time they thought about making out through portkey travel. They left the glove at the arrival point, and Harry let Sebastian Disapparate them away to his house.

    They landed right in a large but unfamiliar bedroom, and Sebastian whispered, “Is this okay?” before Harry eagerly returned to his arms.

    “I practiced a wand-specific blindfold spell.”

    “Oh?” While normally Harry adored surprising Sebastian, now was not the time for confusion.

    “Not for _now_. So you will feel safe sleeping next to me. I can use your wand to cast it on me before bed, and we can stay together. The whole night. Every night, if you want me.”

    “I think you know that I do.”

    “I want you to feel safe.”

    “I think,” Sebastian began as he bent his head to sample Harry's lips again, “— worrying about _you_  should be my job, tonight. Where should we start, my Harry?”

    “Clothes, probably,” he replied, shyly returning Sebastian's affectionate kisses.

    This was not the same frenzied clinch as their first kiss, a few weeks previous. Harry was both awkwardly and excitedly in control of himself as they worked at each other's shirt buttons and fastenings, pressing tame kisses to each other's mouths and skin sporadically to reassure each other that they weren’t having second thoughts.

    When Harry ran his hands reverently over the other man's skin, thick-fingered hands reached up to stop him. “This is not my chest,” Sebastian reminded him apprehensively.

    “I know,” Harry said gently. “But for right now, and for all that I've known you, it has… housed your soul. Do you not like it when I touch you?”

    “I adore it. I am just troubled, love.”

    Harry bravely swiped his tongue over the ridge of Seb's collarbone, then suckled a small reddish circle into being on the muscle where his neck met his shoulder. Sebastian melted slightly into his embrace, and Harry returned to his mouth to press on a warm kiss.

    “I know who you are,” he whispered. “Inside. Whatever body you're in, no matter how scarred from the war it may be, I will still know who you are.”

    Sebastian crushed Harry to himself, peppering his face with kisses. “Remember — I'm magic, love, so not many scars — but thank you.” His warm fingers drifted down Harry's front to the waistband of his trousers, and the younger man froze, so excited he could barely even remember to make his mouth move against Seb's lips.

    "Okay, love?" Seb asked, apparently having felt him tense.

    "Very excited," Harry managed to say, _almost_ past the point of being embarrassed.

    Sebastian chuckled. "Good."

    He'd never felt such anticipation as when that wonderful, magical hand slipped down between his boxers and his skin before _finally_ closing around his length. “Ohhh, Merlin,” he breathed when that hand carefully stroked him. That simple motion... it was the barest basics of sexual contact — but the knowledge that it was Seb’s hand… his very own hand was on Harry's most intimate and tender of places...

    “Wait, I wanna see.” Harry leaned back, hands braced on Sebastian's shoulders as he watched the tanned hand rise, swallowing up his erection, then press down, revealing it again. “Oh, fuck that's too hot, I can't watch, I'll blow.”

    Sebastian chuckled into his hair as Harry hid his face in his shoulder. They stood there for a few moments, Harry humming encouragement and that hand moving ever so deliberately along his flesh until he decided that he didn't want to be so passive anymore.

    “I want to touch you too, can I please touch you?’

    “I certainly won't _stop_ you.”

    Harry eagerly undid the other man's trousers, and unlike Sebastian, he pushed them down a bit as well — acutely aware that this was his first time with a man and he wanted to see what he was doing, to get it exactly right. He was surprised to see his hands shake a little, but he ignored it and took a gentle hold of the other man's shaft.

    He didn't realize how worried he'd been about coming face to face with a real live penis until he had Sebastian's in his hand and all he felt was relief and curiosity. It was such an odd sensation; the shape was so familiar but the perspective completely flipped. He found himself adjusting his fingers and grip a few times as he practiced stroking, trying to hold him in such a way that would not bend him opposite his natural curve — he was used to holding himself and that obviously wouldn’t work when everything was turned around. It was a real puzzle.

    He peeked up at Sebastian's face to see how his manipulations were being received, and his breath caught in a sharp inhale at the half lidded, ardent stare he was getting in return. A lick of arousal hit his stomach so hard he had to grab the still-moving hand on his own length to keep his body from following that surge straight into orgasm. Seb's enjoyment affected him more than anything else  _ever_ had. Definitely not something so tame as a  _puzzle._

    “Shall we take a moment to move to the bed?” the older man asked, voice low and rumbling. Harry could only nod, weak with anticipation and the echo of the nervousness that burning look had caused. He scrambled fully out of his trousers and pants, then more timidly sat on the bed and scooted towards the middle. Sebastian disrobed more sedately, and then took a detour towards the bedside table before joining Harry on the bed, prowling forward in his hands and knees.

    The older man dropped the familiar-shaped jar of lube on the mattress and kept crawling forward until his mouth collided with Harry's. He used the momentum to push the younger man flat down onto his back, sinking down until their skin pressed together from mouth to shin.

    “Oh, that's a nice feeling,” Harry breathed, wrapping his arms around the other man's bare back and wiggling to try and feel as much bare skin against his own as possible, all at once. He knew the other man had tried to be very aggressively arousing with his take-down move, but Harry was caught up in this new delight. “It's not felt like that before.”

    “That's because you're as gay as a posey, love,” Sebastian commented lightly, apparently not put out that their coupling was gentling again, fumbling with the jar in one hand as he did.

    Harry laughed loud and long — there may have been some hyper-emotional hysteria involved, this was all so _new_ — until a warm, _slick_ hand wrapped around him once again and it shifted to an exhaled moan.

    “Take me too, love,” Sebastian murmured in his ear, jerking his head towards the jar which sat uncapped and waiting by their side. Harry was only too eager to oblige, taking a healthy sweep over the top and reaching between them to coat Seb with the potion and then matching his pace.

    They kissed, leisurely and affectionate, as Seb kept himself propped up on his elbow and their hands loved each other's flesh... slowly sinking into euphoria. Harry had never felt such connection, such natural _magic_ with Ginny. He wanted to stay in this moment… this haze of bliss for eternity. This is exactly what he had been missing. Exactly what he'd wanted. Face to face, deep love, an almost meditative descent into —

    “Seb, I'm—” Harry gasped.

    “Me too, here, like this.” Sebastian lowered his pelvis until their bollocks rested against each other and wrapped his hand around both of them at the same time. Harry followed suit, and their fingers tangled, squeezing and pulling. Harry looked down, and it was all over. The sight of Sebastian's cockhead pressed right next to his — both a deep reddish-purple with pearly proof of their arousals smearing and rubbing against each other — overwhelmed him until he abruptly tipped over the edge.

    Hot spurts of cum decorated his and Seb's bellies and chests, dribbling over their hands and soaking into Harry's pubic hair as he groaned out foul-mouthed affirmations. Sebastian followed close behind, and Harry made sure to keep their hands’ pace firm and steady as the older man's face hid in his shoulder, tensing and shuddering silently through his own release. He pressed kisses against the short hairs on the side of Seb's head; even though the moments after orgasm were the least sexually motivated he ever felt in life, he still wanted to shower love and affection on his new fiance.

    When his breath hitched, Seb's head flew up with a frown. “What's wrong? Did I…?”

    “I just remembered that you agreed to marry me,” Harry replied around the lump in his throat. He blinked his eyes in an effort not to shed any tears. “I'm such a ninny, I'm sorry. I'm just so happy.”

    Sebastian's smile stretched wide. “I am happy too, love. To be with you forever — incredibly happy.”

    They kissed again, but carefully kept their bodies from touching due to the mess.

    After a moment, the older man pulled himself fully away and disappeared into the bathroom with the strict instructions not to move and ‘get any of _that_ on the bedspread.’ When he returned, his chest and genitals were clean and he had a warm, damp washcloth in hand to use on Harry as well.

    When all was taken care of and they relaxed into the bed, Harry cast the blindfold spell with Sebastian's wand, and then sightlessly handed it back to his general direction.

    “I know you can't see me because I just made a rude gesture and no reaction at all,” Sebastian declared wryly.

    Harry gasped. “What? I want to see!” He broke into laughter and Sebastian pulled him close.

    “I love you, my uncouth Harry.”

    “And I love you my… _too_ couth Sebastian.”

    Both chuckled, and tried to settle their joyful bodies down for sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extensive Google Mapping was done for this one, haha. And, of course, let's all pretend back then that the online review sites were as robust as they are now, lol!


	20. Chapter 20

 

# Chapter Twenty

    The next morning, Harry startled awake when he blindly became aware of someone slipping into the bed with him.

    “Sebastian?” he queried, alarmed.

    “Yes, it's just me, love. I just went downstairs to fetch my potion. _Finite_.”

    Like a switch being flipped, Harry's vision returned. “Agh, bright,” he grumbled, pulling the covers up over his head. Sebastian laughed and peeled back the covers, then climbed on top of him and shielded Harry's face with his own head and hands, creating their own little world between them.

    “You look beautiful with your face all swollen and sleepy,” Sebastian complimented lightly.

    “Swollen?” Harry frowned. “Well, thanks, I guess.”

    “Don't be mad, love,” he responded, lowering his pelvis and rocking against Harry's morning wood. “It seems I am swollen too.”

    “ _Ohh_ , Merlin. All is forgiven. Even for calling me beautiful instead of... dastardly handsome or something. Just keep doing that.”

    Sebastian dropped a kiss to the corner of his mouth and answered, “Wrap your legs around mine and push back against me. Just don't tilt your pelvis up too far or I'll smash your tender places.”

    Harry, who tried very hard not to worry about his ‘tender places’ being _smashed_ , tentatively obeyed, knowing that his position was very much like a woman's in missionary sex. It was hard to feel less like a man, though, when Sebastian's eyes glittered down at him in frank approval, when the coarse hair on their legs mingled together, and when Seb pressed his underwear-clad length so deliciously beside his own.

    “Shouldn't we be doing this naked?” Harry gasped as Seb rhythmically slid against him.

    “If you like,” the older man replied, pausing his movements. “For men who do not prefer anal sex, doing this naked can be as intense as it gets — making love. I do not want to push you too fast, too soon.”

    Harry cupped Sebastian's face in his hands. “I guess we haven't discussed this. I'm not ready yet for _that_ , but that's a _squeamish_ issue, not an intimacy issue. I want to be as deeply yours as I possibly can. As much as you want me to be.”

    Sebastian kissed him then, and while Harry was distracted returning the affection the man Banished both their pants to the corner of the room.

    “What — I didn't think you had your wand!”

    Sebastian smirked, then dropped his wand to the bed where it almost immediately sprang back into his waiting palm again.

    “I'm so jealous,” Harry said bluntly. “Even in Auror training all I could do was light up my wand wandlessly. I mean — you get it. The wand was far away. I would have killed to summon my wand in the war.”

    “It's takes practice, but I can share my tips,” Sebastian offered softly.

    Harry realized he'd turned off the mood with his gripe, and thrust up a little, wanting to fix his blunder. “Rather than the tip, I was hoping for the whole thing.”

    “Minx,” Seb huffed out on a laugh. “Let me get the salve.”

    Harry propped himself up on his elbows curiously as Sebastian _accio-_ ed the pot that was just like Harry's — except for being green instead of blue — and actually dipped a finger down into the contents.

    “Wow, that's a lot,” Harry said, as Sebastian coated his erection until it shone with a high gloss, and then gave Harry's the same treatment. One more swipe over each of Harry's inner thighs — "Huh, wasn't expecting that" — and then Sebastian replaced the lid, levitated it back over to the side table, and then with a sigh of satisfaction, settled down between Harry's greased up legs.

    “How about now, love?” he asked smugly, pumping his hips against Harry's. With the slickness over their cocks and the residue he'd rubbed onto the skin that cradled his weight, their pelvises slid easily against each other.

    Harry pulled Sebastian down so they could continue to frot pressed together from forehead to thigh. “Amazing,” he breathed. “Kiss me.”

    He hadn't known it to be possible, but somehow it was even more intense than the night before. They were connected, pulling and straining against each other in a way that hadn't been feasible with their hands between them. This time, their hands were free to travel over hair, thighs, shoulders, and buttocks, grasping and tugging and _holding —_ anything to increase their ability to get closer to each other. At the end, Harry came first again with Sebastian following close behind, and the older man let out his first uninhibited cry of passion into Harry's shoulder.

    After a moment when his head didn't lift back up, Harry realized his love was struggling with tears. “Oh, Seb, are you alright?” he whispered compassionately, stroking his back with concerned, light touches.

    “I never thought I'd have this,” was confessed into his neck. “I never thought this would happen for me. I never in a million years thought you would be the one to make… _everything_ better. I love you so goddamn much.”

    Harry raised his eyebrows at the swear, but inside, his heart simultaneously hurt and warmed for his Sebastian. “I love you too. Always, always, always.”

    The older man discreetly wiped his eyes, and then, with an eye on the bedspread again, helped Harry off the bed to take a shower together.

    Later that day, Seb began helping Harry pack up his things at his apartment. The long-awaited commitment had been made, and it was beyond easy for Harry to accept Sebastian's offer to start their ‘forever’ right away. He had loved that house from the moment he'd stood on its lawn, being surrounded by framed proof of Sebastian's genius in every room, and the comforting, warm feel of the furnishings as well.

    His own furniture had just been chosen for affordability and function — back when he thought he and Ginny would be buying a house in a few years and they could wait to buy _real_ wood fixtures until then. To be honest, he was glad to see the back of the white chipboard tables that made up the bulk of what he owned. The stark color had been Ginny's preference; Harry hadn't cared either way. The only things he really cared to keep were his school trunk and the owl stands.

    “Are you sure you're ready to have a Gryffindor and his _royally_  spoiled owl move in with you?” Harry asked teasingly as they un-shrunk the third perch.

    “As long as it’s you, and your Prince, then yes,” Sebastian replied mildly. “Others can apply elsewhere.”

    “Speaking of others… I didn’t tell Ron and Hermione that I wouldn’t be coming to dinner tonight.”

    “Hmm. I believe I can survive without you for one evening.” Harry shook his head at the light sarcasm coloring the other man’s voice.

    “Can I tell them that we’re engaged? And that I am moving in with you?”

    Sebastian paused from placing a new tray liner on the stand they had just put down. He chewed on his lip, thinking, and Harry tried not to be distracted with thoughts of nibbling on the other man’s mouth himself. “I cannot imagine telling you to keep our good fortune a secret and still being able to call myself a good partner. However… Hermione Granger’s… _persistence_ for the truth has been well reported by the papers since she attained her job at the Ministry. She is the one I am most concerned about dragging me back into wizarding politics, unaware of the harm she may be causing.”

    Harry squinted at Sebastian and posed dramatically. “Dastardly Cornelius Fudge, I knew it was you!”

    Seb’s face was positively nauseous.

    “I am, of course, kidding, love. Though… I am relieved with just _how_ disgusted your face became. He was _not_ a good person. Tonight if they ask after you I will tell them the truth: you are a very private person who has chosen to live apart from the wizarding world after your bad experiences in the war. Sound safe?”

    Sebastian nodded, still obviously uncomfortable, but willing to take the risk so Harry could still be open with his friends.

 

 

    “You’ve done it again, Ron,” Harry praised, shoving another bite of beef roast into his mouth. He was so full, but he couldn't stop eating, it was that good.

    Ron finished the last of his whiskey before responding. “ _Well_ , Hermione wanted this week's dinner to be a little fancier than usual to celebrate turning in your homework — I mean, _proposal_.”

    Hermione beamed across the table, and Harry scratched his head lightly. Better to rip off the plaster quickly. “Ah, well, speaking of which… proposals to celebrate — I asked Sebastian to marry me and he said 'yes.' I'm moving in with him, too.”

    Despite his nerves, he couldn't help his intense pride from shining out of his face and voice as he spoke. Hermione and Ron, on the other hand, both dropped their jaws in twin expressions of shock.

    “I did not even realize you two had officially been dating,” Hermione said carefully, the first to recover.

    “We did things a little differently, even from the beginning,” Harry replied truthfully. “Seb was… badly affected by the war. He was very cautious, even with becoming my friend because — besides art therapy — he's been living in the Muggle world with no intention of re-entering Wizarding society. He took a big risk becoming ‘Harry Potter's’ friend.”

    “Is he a Muggleborn who was Snatched?” Hermione asked sympathetically. Harry mimed zipping his lips, though of course he didn't actually know what had happened to make Sebastian run. “If he is, will you tell him that there are resources available for him? If he was hiding we may not have been able to find and help him, and he may not know that there is significant assistance available to victims of the previous Ministry.”

    “Even if he was,” Harry said gently, “he's not going to want to come forward under his real name. He wants nothing to do with England’s Ministry ever again. And not to mention, he's doing really well. He lives in a beautiful home, and he makes these absolutely stunning, incredible paintings — he has more commission requests than he can fulfill.”

    “— And now, he has you,” Hermione added thoughtfully. “So how did you go from ‘scared to be friends’ to engaged? It's only been, what, seven... eight months?”

    Harry smiled, remembering how they interacted back before he even knew he was gay. “I realized I was feeling something for him pretty early on,” he said, reminiscing, “— about three months in. But he wasn’t having any of it. He really enjoyed being my friend — this is according to him — and when I approached him he thought I wasn’t taking our _friendship_ seriously. He thought I was just after him casually, willing to throw him away if it didn’t work out. He said, with the way he was in hiding, he ‘would not settle for anything less than a lifetime commitment’ — or something like that.”

    “And you rose to the challenge, of course,” Hermione teased, a smile tugging at her lips even through the concern.

    “I went out with Dean to a gay bar, figured out while I was interested in the… goings-on, I didn’t want any guy, I just wanted him. That was the first big step to convincing him to taking me seriously. From there, we talked a lot about what it would look like, what is an absolute no-go in a relationship… what we need. He decided first… and he was quietly waiting for me for _months_ before I finally got to the point where I realized… I don’t want to do this without him one more day. I can’t. I know he didn’t save me from anything by becoming my friend, but it sure as hell _feels_ like he did. I’ve known I loved him for a while now, but now I know I never want to even think about loving anyone else, ever again. He’s… mine.”

    “Oh, Harry,” Hermione warbled, sniffling. “That’s beautiful.”

    “I need a drink,” moaned Ron, unhappily.

    “Don’t,” Harry warned, frowning at his friend. Maybe it was the last brilliant twenty-four hours empowering him, but he finally felt courageous enough to act on his suspicions. “Don’t get another drink.”

    Ron frowned back at him. “What? I’m not… you say that like you think I’ve got a problem.” He laughed a little as if the thought was absurd. “Right, ‘Mione? It’s… fine, right?”

    “Maybe — with Rosie coming soon — it would be better to lay off a little,” she replied hesitantly, looking to Harry for support.

    “I didn’t think it was like that,” he said, frowning at the glass in his hand. Finally, he set it down again. “I don’t want to make the wrong decision here. I won't get another drink.”

    “Oh, _Ron!_ ” Hermione wailed, wrenching up from her seat and throwing herself into his arms. Ron looked a little lost at how much his action had just affected her, and turned confused, pained eyes over to Harry, who gave him a sincere thumbs-up.

 

 

    As a week passed, Harry finished moving into Seb’s house and contacted his landlord to begin breaking his rental agreement. They celebrated well that night, and Harry woke up the next morning with a goofy smile still plastered across his face. Slowly, they got used to each other’s rhythms, getting used to when the other person liked to snack compared to meal times, how to know when to avoid the loo for the next while, and they established a routine for getting them both to bed having done their nighttime chores when otherwise they might be distracted in getting the other to bed as soon as possible.

    So, it came as quite a shock to Harry when he bounced down the stairs that morning, Seb having undone the blindfold spell while he was still asleep, to be confronted with a newspaper to the face and a pissed-off fiance.

    “You sold us out?” Sebastian demanded. Splashed across the front page was the headline: “BOY-WHO-LIVED-TWICE ENGAGED TO MYSTERY MAN” with a very blurry photo taken of the two of them through the window when they’d been leaving Dean’s gallery together. They were careful to behave platonically in public for more reasons than one, but the photo had a zoomed-in circle of the ring on Seb’s hand in the corner. With a quick glance at the article, Harry spotted the use of the word ‘glamours’ several times.

    Harry gaped at it all. “I didn’t! I swear I didnt! I only mentioned it to Ron and Hermione like we discussed— _exactly_ as we discussed! I told them very clearly that you wanted to stay out of the wizarding world _forever._ I didn’t tell _anyone_ else… I’ve been with you!”

    Sebastian scrubbed at his forehead, obviously fighting with himself and still unable to believe Harry. “Then why do they say that their source is an _anonymous former flame_ of yours? There’s only one person who that could be! Have you… have you been _seeing_ her without telling me?”

    “Who…? _Ginny_. You think Ginny somehow knows?” He frowned. “You think she… went to the press with it?” He could feel his mouth turning down in what was probably a rather vulnerable expression of betrayal, but when he tried to flatten it he could feel his lips wobble even more tellingly instead.

    Sebastian slumped, seemingly unable to fight against Harry's earnest upset. “You didn’t tell her?”

    “No. I’ve cut off all contact, and Ron _knows_ this. _He_ must have told her. Why would he do that?” Harry turned his gaze to his lover. “Why would _you_ think I’d done this? That I’d seen her? Haven’t I…” Harry’s voice fizzled out. He couldn’t bring himself to say the rest: ‘Haven’t I shown how much I love _you_?’

    Even so, Sebastian managed to see it written on his face, and he cupped Harry’s jawline in his hands and brought their foreheads together. “You are right. I am so sorry, love. I should have realized it was you who was being betrayed by this article, not me. It is just… you are so perfect, and I am old and ugly and _angry._ The sweeter you are to me, the less I understand how it could be.”

    “Weird. I think _you_ are perfect, and I am immature, unkempt, and a danger to your peace here. Your love means everything to me. I would never, ever, _ever_ sell you out. I can't… I can't _live_ without you. I wouldn't want to.”

    Sebastian shushed the morbid declaration and pressed a kiss to his mouth to ensure his silence on the topic, but Harry wasn't done.

    “Seb… you know I'm not with you _because_ of your disguise, right? I'm talking about what you said earlier… about your looks. If all the Polyjuice in the world was Vanished from under our noses, as long as you still act like _you_ and treat me the way that _you_ do, that will be all I need.” Harry spoke as convincingly as he could. Seb had been increasingly less guarded about revealing details about himself. Harry could _feel_ that he was wrestling with the idea of dropping the disguise entirely, but wasn’t quite comfortable enough yet. He wanted Seb to feel like when he was ready… Harry would still be there.

    “There you go being sweet again,” Sebastian said instead of agreeing. Harry sighed, but then the head against his moved, and soft, suckling kisses were laid upon his neck.

    “Where’s this coming from? Not that I’m complaining.”

    “I feel like I need to properly apologize,” Sebastian replied silkily, and Harry shuddered at the warm low tone ghosting over his ear.

    “Okay, then,” he replied eagerly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posted early because I am having a bad day/bad week and wanted to do something that makes me happy - sharing my story - to overcome it. I like the 'foreplay' feeling of only posting twice a week, but sometimes I just need a quickie, you know? 
> 
> I'm sorry. That was so bad, haha. Anyway, hope you enjoyed.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian and Harry spend a day together at home.

# Chapter Twenty-One

    The next morning Harry woke before Sebastian, which was a first. He snuggled in closer to the body he was laying partially atop of, waking the other man who grunted in alarm before realizing Harry was still blind and settling back down.

    “How are you feeling?” Seb asked, and hands which were decidedly softer than usual slid down his back to curl around the globes of his arse.

    The previous morning’s apology had been a wild experience for Harry. Sebastian had slowly eased two fingers into his bottom while giving Harry _the best_ blowjob of his life. It was definitely an exercise of trust for Harry, who even now was still unsure about being _fingered,_ but then at nighttime after a full day of refusing Harry’s attempts at reciprocation they had come together the way they had on his first morning at Seb’s… lubed-up frotting was quickly becoming Harry’s favorite thing _ever._

    “Back there?” Harry asked bluntly. “Normal, I think. Buuut…”

    “Hm?” Sebastian’s hands stopped lightly fondling his bum.

    “I don’t know if this would be considered a good thing or not, but I am feeling kinda… _super_ excited that you’re holding me with your body. Your er, genetic one. I’m trying not to move too much right now but I kinda… _want_ you. Can I move my hands around? I won’t touch your face, I promise.”

    Sebastian had frozen during his request. Even his breath came in shallowly as he contemplated what Harry had asked for. Harry locked his muscles as well, not wanting a single _breath_ to make Sebastian think he was sneaking a feel, that he wasn’t going to fully respect his decision, either way. “I am not sure, love.”

    “Then I will just lay here. I’m sorry.”

    “Your love for me — the real _me —_ is continuously a marvel.” That soft hand lifted to his chest where Harry’s own lay, and interlaced their fingers. Sebastian’s real fingers were long and slender, and Harry wondered if using the Polyjuice Potion made it harder to paint, since Marco’s hands were considerably blunter. Harry shuddered as their fingers rubbed together. “Alright?”

    “Yes,” Harry replied, strained. “Just very… excited. I didn’t realize it would be this emotional… to touch you with no Potion between us.”

    “I admit I am enjoying seeing your hand in mine — the one I’ve known for all my life.” Harry unconsciously pressed his pelvis against the side of Sebastian’s as another mental image flooded his mind.

    “Do you want to see my hands on your _body_ , as well?” He asked daringly. “Feel free to shoot me down if that’s too far.”

    “How about mine on you first, while I get comfortable with… being myself with you.”

    “How do you want me?”

    “On your stomach. I’ll give you a massage.”

    Harry promptly rolled over. “I’ve never had a massage before.”

    “I’ve never given one. You’ll have to tell me what works and what doesn’t.”

    “Okay.” Harry hummed pleasantly as Sebastian’s fingers spanned the width of his shoulders like two wings, before pressing in and sliding around the top of them to dig into his neck muscles.

    “That’s nice,” he commented. “You sure you’ve never done this befo-ow. Hmm, maybe don’t dig in with the tips of your fingers.”

    “Like this is better?” The fingers that had been poking inwardsto work on his scapula flattened to sweep with their full length instead.

    “Perfect,” Harry mumbled, relaxing back down.

    After a delightful, thorough job on his back, Seb had him roll over to continue on his front. There was a rather affecting interlude where Sebastian mapped out the contours of his face with those new, lovely hands, but then when Harry turned his head to lay a kiss on his palm, Sebastian spooked and moved on.

    At some point Seb must have summoned the jar of lube because when he decided Harry's erection needed some attention his hands slid deliciously up and down his length with no tugging of the skin.

    “Wait, Seb. Wanna come with you,” Harry panted after a few minutes of squirming under his fiance's talented hands. “Please, can I touch you too?”

    “Alright, my Harry. How do _you_ want _me?_ ”

    Harry beamed in his general direction, then instructed “On your back? I'm sorry I'm not as patient as you.”

    Sebastian only chuckled, and Harry followed the movement of his body, patting until he found the exact location of the other man and then straddled his hips.

    “This is a new position for us,” he said cheekily. “I’ve not been on top of you yet.” He laid his hands on the other man's chest, feeling out the new contours. It seemed original-flavor Sebastian was less hairy than his Polyjuiced form. Harry ran his hands through the sparse hair on his chest and felt by Braille to find his nipples, to no perceivable reaction. “Not sensitive in this body either?”

    “Don't pout,” the older man chided wryly. “You'll make me feel bad.”

    “I just wanted to find more ways to help you feel good.”

    “You do fine at that all on your own.” Indeed, when Harry's hands drifted down over a flat stomach to his penis, the sharp inhale let Harry know exactly how enticing his touch was.

    “Holy shit, Seb.”

    “What a foul mouth.” But the words were purred out without condemnation; Sebastian knew _exactly_ what he was reacting to.

    “You’re huge! I mean, _Merlin_.” Harry was gobsmacked. This was only the third penis he'd held in his life — two of which were technically the same person, and one was himself — and though he should have expected _new_ he was still amazed at how unexpectedly large it was. He carefully stroked it with his unlubed hands, and wondered if maybe today Seb would let him return the favor from yesterday.

    “Hey Seb? Now that you're in your own body… can I taste you?” The erection in his grasp pulsed in response, but the reply was tepid.

    “Ah, sometimes I forget how observant you can be. You’re right that… I didn't want to see anyone else's phallus in your mouth but mine, but I also… I want to see you, sweetheart. See you looking at me, knowing it's me as you give me this gift. This way… blindfolded so you don't see me… it doesn't feel right. The power dynamic is too uneven… it doesn't feel truly… consensual.”

    “So I won't ever get to taste you?” This bothered Harry more than he could have predicted.

    “...Be patient with me, love. I cannot offer you a better answer than that.”

    “Okay,” Harry said softly, stroking a hand over Seb's stomach because he promised not to touch his face. Slowly, so Seb could see and have plenty of time to react to his movement, he leant forward and stretched himself out over the top of the man, feeling that bubbling excitement build at the increased contact.

    “It feels like the first time again,” he commented, laughing at himself.

    “You say that as if we've been together for years,” Sebastian replied. He kept his face turned away, but his hands were warm on Harry's back. “It's only been a week.”

    “The _best_ week. I've never slept so well.” He pressed down with his hips to get his point across.

    “Shall I get the lube, dear?” Seb retorted, and Harry nipped at his neck in playful retaliation to the ribbing.

    “Yes, please,” Harry relented, kissing the spot he'd just bit and then backing away so Sebastian could reach whichever way he needed to.

    A hand found his and then pressed the jar into his palm.

    “I'm excited to get to be the responsible top,” Harry said, smiling as he coated their lengths and his own inner thighs just like the other man had always done for them.

    “Responsible _top_?” Seb snorted. “Don't you go sticking things where they don't belong.”

    Sinking down over his lover, he pressed a kiss to the shoulder by his face and experimentally thrust against the body below him. When he was on the bottom, he usually had his legs on the outside, hooking around Sebastian's and pulling him down. Now, his legs were still on the outside, which made perfect sense when thinking how his partner disliked the vulnerability involved from bottoming long ago. Harry had come to appreciate opening his legs and welcoming his partner, but his rigid — but still so very generous — love would obviously not feel the same.

    “You'll have to tell me if I am doing it right,” Harry murmured against his skin. He let his hands travel over the flesh available to him, careful to avoid sinking his hands into the other man's hair the way he desired to. He could tell from brief grazes that it was short on the sides just like his usual hairstyle he spelled into being every morning, but didn't want to go questing further out of respect.

    Sebastian's hands gripped his hips and helped his rhythm, making Harry moan when while working together they got it _just_ right.

    “That's good, my Harry,” the voice in his ear praised, and Harry dropped his head fully down and focused on making him proud.

    “Love you, Seb.”

    “Love you too.”

    “This is really freaking athletic. You must be in super-good shape to do this to me so well.”

    “... I try my best.”

    “I wanna kiss you.” Harry tried not to whine, but he didn't think he succeeded. Sebastian didn't respond, but within moments the body under him started vibrating and bubbling, so Seb must have Summoned his potion right away.

    “That's a weird feeling from the outside,” Harry panted, but he didn't stop rocking against Seb and even with the pain of the change the other man didn't stop pulling him closer with his free arm, until the slightly-larger body beneath him fully settled into its new shape and suddenly rolled them over.

 _“Finite,”_ Sebastian's voice came from above him, and suddenly he could see that familiar face smirking down at him. “My turn.”

    Harry lifted up as Seb dove down, and their mouths crashed together as the older man shoved backwards at Harry’s thigh to encourage his legs around him tighter. Harry needed no further incitement and gripped onto him strong enough that he was probably causing some bruises to form — but Sebastian didn't complain, in fact, he just devoured Harry's lips all the more voraciously until their lovemaking became somewhat of a battle to _make_ the other to feel the most.

    “Seb, Seb,” Harry chanted as he got close.

    “I'm there,” his love responded tightly. “ _Come_ , Harry…”

    He didn't blast off right on cue, but it was only a few breathless moments later when he climaxed with a shout that exploded from him like a battlecry.

    “You sound so good,” Sebastian groaned, then his rhythm shuddered as he too came, digging his fingers into the backs of Harry's shoulders as the force of it took him away.

 

 

    Later, when they were clean and enjoying breakfast together, Harry remembered something from the previous day.

    “I didn't have a panic attack,” he said wonderingly.

    Sebastian frowned over the rim of his teacup. “This morning? Were we in danger of that?”

    “No, _yesterday._ When you were angry and thought I'd betrayed your trust, I didn't have a panic attack! I was able to stay focused and to… to… to _fight_ for us!”

    Sebastian's eyebrows rose as he spoke, then he smiled warmly. “That's a great win, love. Perhaps when you see Healer Matilda next you can figure out what made that moment different than before.”

    “ _I_ think it means I trust you not to drop me like a hot potato,” Harry replied, feeling a distinct urge to stick his nose in the air like a first-year Hermione.

    “I did not mean to imply you do not know yourself. The brain is elusive and mysterious.”

    Harry took his plate to the sink to wash, and as he started the water to scrub — feeling that there was something so domestic about washing his dish by hand with his love still eating behind him — a white flash burst into being up in the small window just above his eye level.

    The plate in his hands clattered to the bottom of the sink, and Sebastian was up from his seat immediately. “What is it?”

    “Did you just cast a spell?” Harry asked cautiously.

    “No. What did you see?” As taken aback as he was, Harry appreciated that Seb seemed to be taking him seriously _so_ much right then.

    “Pure white flash of light, strong flare. Looked like it may have actually hit outside, a little bit lower than the window, fade was almost instantaneous.”

    “Patronus?” Sebastian made his way to the door that opened to the back yard, bracing his body against the wood and cracking it open three centimeters to peer out.

    “Patronuses go through walls, though, and there was no message; we would have heard it.” Harry kept his eyes and wand on the window, while his entire being remained acutely aware of Sebastian sticking himself further out the door into possible trouble.

    “I don't see anything more. We should cast your investigative spells on the backyard.”

    Harry let his body slump out of readiness at his pronouncement, and turned away from the window to fully scan Sebastian from head to toe.

    “You do everything right in these situations, but I still don't like you putting yourself in danger,” Harry grumbled.

    “That spell came to _you_ ,” Sensation replied mildly. “ _I_ don't like that someone is targeting my fiance.”

    “So we're of the same mind, then,” Harry said as he let his head thump against Seb's shoulder. “Why is this happening? Why nearly four years after the war has been over?”

    “Let's go run your spells and see if we can't find out,” Sebastian said gently.

    Nothing showed up in the scans, and Harry decided not to risk Sebastian by calling the Aurors in, when they would be able to do no better.

    That night, they were both rather somber as they got ready for bed. Harry felt too keyed-up for intimacy, and Seb stroked his back for a long while before he drifted off, Harry still staring sightlessly at whatever lay in front of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AOOO is telling me that It's going to delete my "ABO Thing" draft by the 27th (Maybe some writers like to work a *lot* before posting, come on, AOOO! lol) So far on that one I have like... 50k written up? Sixteen chapters. So I think I'll start accelerating the posting of this one and then hurry up and slow down after posting that one, haha :)
> 
> I should probably figure out a title for it...


	22. Chapter 22

# Chapter Twenty-Two

    That night Harry shifted and turned for a long while, unable to relax enough to drift off. After a while of carefully changing the position of his arms and legs as to not wake Sebastian, he finally untangled himself and scooted over to the edge of the bed to not jostle his love anymore. Unexpectedly, Sebastian rolled right over and tugged his body back into his to spoon around him.

    “It’s okay,” Seb had said, voice rough with sleep. “I want to be here.”

    Still, it took another thirty minutes at least before Harry finally succumbed, and still afterwards his body jerked awake at several points in the night.

    “I’m sorry,” Harry said miserably at one point as Sebastian’s not-asleep hands stroked his arm comfortingly. “I can go to the spare bedroom. I should. I don’t want to keep you awake all night.” He’d never even stepped foot into the room before, but he would go there if it helped Sebastian — even if it would be disheartening to sleep alone again.

    “What kind of man would I be if I kicked you out of our bed when you’re obviously having flashbacks?” Sebastian grumbled, squeezing him tightly as if to not let him get away. “Try to relax, love, and when you wake again, I will be here.”

    Harry turned in his arms to squeeze him back just as hard, and then they settled into their usual position with his head on Sebastian’s shoulder. “Love you,” he mumbled.

    The next morning, despite their rough night, Sebastian got up first, and woke Harry with soft soothing touches at the time they normally arose.

    “Morning, love,” he greeted Harry, who blinked in the morning light and took in the sight of his already-disguised lover hovering over him. “I know you had a rough night, but it’s better to not sleep in and confuse your body. I thought though… that I would make waking up _now_ worth your while, if you’re up for it.”

    Harry smiled, and accepted the offer greedily.

 

 

    “I think it would be a good idea to contact your Healer to discuss the spell and your trouble sleeping afterwards,” Sebastian said while cutting apart his grilled tomato.

    Harry scowled at his rashers, then quickly popped a piece in his mouth to apologize for making such a face at the delicious food. Seb ordered his groceries by owl from the local wizarding fresh market and the thick cut pork was the best thing he’d ever tasted. He didn't know how Seb had managed to find the properly-cut meat in Italy, but he sure wasn't complaining about the results.

    “It is such an experience to watch you eat. If I ever make you angry enough that you won’t speak to me anymore, I must remember to provide you with bacon.”

    “Ha-ha,” Harry replied drily, before leaning back slightly to answer Sebastian properly. “I am going to see Matilda again on Wednesday... I think that’s soon enough. Actually… I haven’t seen Teddy in two weeks now. If you and Andromeda are open to it, I’d like to visit him today.”

    “I think that’s a good idea,” the other man said, eyebrows raised. “Don’t let us living together prevent you from living out your normal schedule. I don’t want you to cut yourself off from your support system just to fit in here. You already fit… even when we only saw each other a few hours every day.”

    Harry nodded. “It would be too easy just to stay near you as much as possible, without thinking about the other people in my life. But I know that’s not sustainable.” Harry laughed suddenly. “It’s not something I ever would have thought about before I started seeing Matilda. Now I’ve got her patient Healer voice in my head reminding me to ‘keep my life in balance.’”

    “It is good to hear you laughing. I look forward to hearing what you and Teddy get up to today was well.”

    “Yeah, yeah, you can’t wait to get rid of me,” Harry teased.

    Sebastian held up a quelling finger. “ _Not_ the case.”

 

 

    “Ten! Nine! Eight! Six! Five! Four! Tree! Two! One! Ready or not ready, here I come to get youu!”

    Harry bit back the urge to shout “You missed one!” which would give away his position. He hunkered down behind the glider in Teddy's room, crouched and ready to run when the Evil Wizard Teddy-wald caught sight of him.

    He heard little feet plod down the hall into Andromeda’s bedroom, where Teddy _knew_ Harry didn't like to go. “Hmm, not in here.” Harry covered the grin breaking out on his face as he heard Teddy rummage under her bed, in her closet, and in her bathroom. Eventually, Teddy figured out he'd have to try somewhere else, and Harry was preparing himself to run again.

    But then the steps faltered in the hallway as he realized he truly _didn't know where Harry was_ and he let out an uncertain “... Harry?”

    But in the past few months Harry had come to recognize and expect this, so he answered by knocking twice on the wall behind his hiding spot. Teddy laughed, enthusiasm swiftly restored, and those little feet hurried down the hall again.

    As soon as that turquoise head of hair came around the corner and squealed, Harry knew he’d been spotted. “You’ll never take me alive, Teddy-wald!” he roared, pointing one of Teddy’s toy wands at the boy which promptly blew multicolored bubbles out the end. Teddy squealed again in combined fear and joy as he ran at Harry with both hands out, wanting to catch him but also not sure of the results if he did so.

    Harry sprinted further in the room, and a giggling Teddy followed close behind until Harry executed a twirl escape move he’d been taught in Auror training around the little boy and took off towards the living room where the ‘safe zone’ was.

    “Mua-ha-ha, you’ll never catch me, Teddy-wald!” he repeated. He was almost to the couch when a bright, creamy-white spell burst through the wall near the kitchen and abruptly fizzled out just centimeters from his face. The fun died abruptly.

    “Teddy, wait,” he ordered, turning and holding off the boy from getting too close. “I need to cast some grown up spells for a second, do you want to watch? You have to stand back though.” The spell had him awash in mortal fear, but the remnants of those feelings took a back seat to his determination to keep Teddy from realizing the gravity of what had just happened.

    Teddy nodded mutely, hair turning black and wild like Harry’s as he recognized the serious tone in his godfather’s voice.

    Harry cast the detection spells one by one, getting frustrated when no record of the spell came up amidst the other normal household spells Andromeda must perform around the area regularly. He even went across the room to where he’d _seen_ the spell come through the wall, but nothing showed up. Eventually, he sighed, and decided to let Sebastian know what had occured.

    “Hi Sebastian,” he spoke after casting his Patronus. “Sorry for sending a message this way, but I thought you’d like to know right away that there was another spell that came at me just now. It looked very similar to a non-corporeal Patronus but the color was slightly off this time, slightly yellowed. Nothing is showing up on the scans, but I am going to contact the Aurors and Andromeda anyway. I don’t know how long it will take from there but I am safe, and unhurt, just frustrated and want to get home to you soon. Love you. Okay, that’s the message, please hurry.”

    Even through his upset he still felt goosebumps pop up over his body after calling Seb’s place ‘home.’ He really did love that place, and the man currently in it.

    “Okay, Teddy, you did really good. Do you want to help me send a message to your Grandma?” The uncertain boy perked up right away, and Harry cast another Patronus to send. “Okay, what should we say?”

    “Hi grandma!” Teddy burst out. Harry chuckled.

    “That’s good,” he praised. “Hello, Andromeda. We were having a good time when an unidentifiable spell came through the living room. There was no damage and it seemed to have no effect at all, but I am going to call the Aurors in anyway just to make sure I didn’t miss anything, and get it on record. I am sorry to interrupt your time away, but thought you would want to know, especially as I am about to invite the Ministry into your living room. Anything else Teddy?”

    “Love you! Bye!!”

    “Alright, that’s the message. Thank you,” Harry said to his stag. This one sped in the opposite direction the other one had, and Harry readied his wand one more time.

    “Alright. This one is for Investigative Auror in charge of the open Harry Potter case. Please use that to identify yourself to the Auror’s Assistant, and deliver the following message to who they point out, okay?”

    Harry wondered if he was asking too much, but the stag nodded his head in understanding, so he plowed on, impressed. “This is Harry Potter. Ten minutes ago in the living room of Miss Andromeda Tonks an unknown spell passed through the outside wall towards my face, and then dissipated immediately before it would have made contact. Spell visually similar to Patronus, but flare was slightly dimmer and the color slightly more yellow in appearance. Investigation revealed no trace remnants, but would appreciate a second opinion, and official record of the incident. Thank you, that’s the message.”

    “Do it again,” Teddy said eagerly after the last one left.

    “Well, I was thinking since you were _so_ good and listened _so_ well, that we might get _you_ set up with a treat. How does that sound?”

    “Ice cream?”

    Harry chuckled. “Only if I can put some fruit on it and we pretend it’s yogurt,” he conceded.

    “Yeah, yeah!” Teddy cheered, running ahead of him to the kitchen.

    Andromeda, who was closest, was the first to Apparate in. “Teddy? Harry?” she called, sounding worried.

    “We’re in the kitchen! And guess _what?_ I’m eating ice cream!” Teddy yelled out, subtle as ever.

    “Ice cream? Did you eat lunch first?” Teddy shook his head guiltily, and Harry stepped in to explain.

    “Teddy did a great job, standing still in a safe place when I did my adult spells, didn’t you?”

    Teddy nodded, excited once more. “Yeah! And I helped send the message to you! Did you got it?”

    “I did _get_ it,” Andromeda responded. “Well, it definitely _sounds_ like you deserve a yummy treat for being so good for Harry.”

    “And there’s fruit,” Teddy said helpfully, holding up his dripping spoon with a cream coated raspberry on top.

    “The Aurors haven’t arrived yet,” Harry informed Andromeda seriously. “I’ll try to take care of everything when they get here, so you can relax and not have to worry.”

    Andromeda nodded slowly. “I’d still like to be here while they’re here, but I’ll keep Teddy with me and out from underfoot.”

    “Hey,” Teddy protested. Then, “Whoa! That’s a _big_ one!”

    Sebastian’s majestic griffin leaped to a stop besides Harry, and moved as if to nuzzle him even though they couldn’t properly touch. “Thanks for letting me know, love. Please stay safe and tell me how it goes with the Aurors when you’re back home safe and sound.”

    “Love?” Andromeda queried wryly. “Why, Harry, I am positively astounded at this unexpected development. Please tell me more.”

    Harry flushed red at being caught, but there was only gossipy delight in Andromeda’s eyes, not prejudice, so he started to tell her the agreed-upon details about how Sebastian and he had come together.

 

 

    “There you are,” Sebastian commented after Harry Apparated in. Harry fell into his arms easily as they met in the middle of the living room.

    “I missed you,” Harry said into his chest.

    “And I you,” Sebastian agreed. “The house was empty today. Will you come help me with dinner while you tell me your story?”

    Harry nodded his assent, gave an extra tight squeeze around around the other man’s middle, and moved to the nearby kitchen to see what needed to be washed, chopped, or otherwise prepared. As they worked, Harry explained how the spell had appeared while he was escaping from the unusually cruel Teddy-wald, and how he’d immediately shut down the game and began analyzing the space.

    “I don’t understand how it can go through a solid wall and not leave behind some kind of marker for the spell to find.” Harry grumbled at last.

    “If it _is_ some kind of modified Patronus, it would make sense that it wouldn’t leave anything behind. That is one of the identifying characteristics of soul magic. It is...  _smart_ of them to try and cover their tracks by modifying an untraceable spell.”

    “That’s what the lead Investigator said,” Harry agreed morosely. “I don’t know what to do about this. There’s no point in hiding since the Patronus part of the spell will accurately find me anyway. Can all we really do is wait until one finally carries some sort of curse right _to_ me?”

    Sebastian turned away from the stove to gather Harry in his arms. “Maybe we should practice using shield spells while startling each other during our days. That way, when the aggressor has finished his work, you will be so used to automatically putting up a shield, it won't have a chance.”

    “Maybe,” Harry conceded, “though the thought of jumping out at each other until we are both paranoid as Mad-Eye — may he rest in peace — does not fill me with joy.”

    Sebastian chuckled. “Do not be so beaten down, love, you are starting to sound like me.”

    They made and ate dinner companionably, discussing Sebastian's latest painting and steering the conversation away from anything unknown-spell related. Harry could tell that Seb was trying to provide him with some sanctuary for the evening and appreciated it, right up until another spell flew through the wall headed straight for the back of Sebastian's head.

    “ _Protego totalum!”_ Harry cast desperately, holding out his hand as if it were at all possible for the spell to be cast by Harry wandlessly.

    It came as a total shock when the shield _did_ spring up around Sebastian without a moment's pause, and an even greater shock when the spell went right through it as if it wasn't even there. For his part, as soon as the words emerged from Harry's mouth, Sebastian expertly threw himself to the side — however, as much as the shield didn't matter, him dodging didn't matter either because the spell bent its trajectory to match his new location.

    Again, the spell disappeared before making contact, but from this angle Harry could see that it didn't just fade out of existence normally; it collapsed in on itself instead, perhaps by design. Without a moments pause Harry retrieved his wand from his pocket and began casting diagnostic spells, hoping that laying them down mere seconds after impact would have a greater effect.

    “ _Nothing!_ ” he spat. “Absolutely _fucking nothing!_ How can I fight this?! How can I — it was headed for _you —_ how can I keep you safe?”

    Sebastian was off the floor and standing in front of Harry in a heartbeat. “Breathe, Harry, I'm okay. It didn't touch me.”

    “It went — through the shield. How can — how can I...?”

    “You're having a panic attack love, come sit in your chair. Breathe, two, three — Harry, you need to do the exercise.”

    “If someone is after me that's fine but if they're after you then how can I _keep you safe?”_ Harry moaned. “We can't stop it. We can't stop them. _I_ can't… they're going to take you away, I'm going to _lose_ you, oh God, Seb what if you —”

    “Sorry, love,” Sebastian said. “ _Stupefy.”_

    When he woke up, he felt unreasonably mellow. “Whas… happened?” he slurred.

    “I Stunned you and dosed you with a Calming Potion,” Sebastian said straightforwardly. “You were spiraling and I couldn't reach you. I'm sorry, my love.”

    Harry didn't realize he was crying until Sebastian's hands came to cup his cheeks and wipe the tears away. Sitting on the couch next to him, he pulled Harry into his lap, and the distraught man quietly wept into his shoulder.

    “If whoever is doing this is after me instead, then perhaps it would be better for you if we were to stay apart until whoever it is has been caught.”

    A swell of rage broke through the Calming Potion for a split second until the effective brew manage to sweep it away again. “Even wiv the potion,” Harry said slowly but firmly, “I almos’ punched you jus’ now. I wan’ you to know how distaze-ful I find that idea.”

    “I would too, in reverse,” Sebastian admitted.

    “I _need_ ‘jyu. We face this togev-er like true par-ners.” It was so hard to speak with his tongue as floppy as it was, but Harry tried his hardest to inject some feeling into his words.

    “Alright... alright. Together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting quickly again because it's my birthday <3 I also posted a maybe-oneshot and the first chapter of my next big project. I hope you check them out and like them too :)


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian has a gift for Harry, and later on someone else has a gift for them.

# Chapter Twenty-Three

    They made it through the night with no more sinister flashes, though a fox in the yard startled them both out of bed and into the back yard with wands at the ready in the wee hours of the night.

    Both Harry and Sebastian were on edge all day after their interrupted sleep, but they successfully managed to avoid taking it out on each other aside from a few terse moments. In the afternoon, having had enough of the forced quiet, Sebastian stormed away, startling Harry who had been running through lists of potential defensive spells in his mind, dueling imaginary duels.

    When Seb came back into the room from upstairs, he had an uneven stack of lacquered wood under his arm with a bow on it that Harry recognised as coming from a commonly-used Gift-Wrapping Charm. Harry sat up curiously as Seb set the wood down with irritated precision next to his easel.

    “I was going to give this to you as a moving-in gift, but didn't know when was the right time. I hate the atmosphere around us so I am _choosing_ to break out of it by giving this to you now.” He flicked his wand, and the wood slid apart smoothly until Harry could finally see that it was an _easel_ that Sebastian had given him. It wasn't as unreasonably large as Seb's professional model but it was still obviously well made, and Harry left the couch to go take a better look at it.

    As he came close, Seb unshrunk a tiny canvas and placed it on the stand. Coming around, Harry could see it was the painting _he'd_ done at Art Therapy of the gay couple at the bar.

    “You didn't Vanish it,” he realized.

    “I Banished it because even if I didn't believe you to be sincere at the time, seeing it gave me the most ‘ _hope’_ I'd had so far that I could be with you, also.”

    Harry hugged him hard, trying his best to consciously release the stress that had hounded him all day so that he could just _be_ with Seb in the now. “I hate today too. But I love you. Thank you for my easel.”

    “We have our art class tonight and no time for you to properly use it, but I wanted to…”

    “I know.” Harry took a shaky breath in, and on its way out of his chest he released as much fear and anger with it as he could.

 

 

    “Hi Dean,” Harry greeted as they entered his shop. For some reason he was hanging out alone in the gallery, instead of in the studio like he normally did before a class.

    “Hey, guys,” he responded easily. “You guys have some visitors in there today. I'll be back there in a minute.”

    Harry sent a quizzical look Sebastian's way, who sent him a similar expression in return, and they headed to the back room to get set up and see who'd come.

    “Hey, mate,” Ron greeted him nonchalantly, standing in front of an easel as if it were no big deal to suddenly appear in his and Sebastian's art therapy class after nearly a year of not attending.

    “Hello Harry, Sebastian,” Hermione said sweetly, not approaching but smiling as if she wanted to _send_ good vibes their way. “Harry told us you were quite a private person,” she said, speaking directly to his partner. “— so we wanted to come here, to a place where we've been _around_ you before, to properly introduce ourselves and meet you. We know this is a special place for you two, so we won't intrude if you really don't wish us to be here.”

    Harry turned stunned, apprehensive eyes to Seb, and what he truly wanted to happen, Seb, accepting their efforts to get to know his love, flickered before his eyes desperately. Undoubtedly reading all that in the expression on his face, Seb sighed and took a step forward, holding his hand out for them to shake.

    “Hello,” he said mildly. “I am Sebastian. It is nice to meet you.”

    Ron shook his hand just as cautiously as it was offered, but Hermione smiled genuinely as she introduced herself also.

    “It is _wonderful_ to finally meet you, too” she said. “We've heard from Harry at varying stages and knew you were leaving a big impression on him. It was a bit of a shock to hear he'd asked you to marry him, but to hear him talk about you along the way… maybe it shouldn't have been.”

    “He often speaks of you, also,” Sebastian granted, tilting his head in formal acknowledgement.

    It was almost painful to watch his love close himself back up into absolute formality like that, but Harry slipped his hand into Seb's with a appreciative smile to the man for his efforts. He felt three squeezes back, and then Dean called the class to order.

    “Happy Friday everyone, it's always nice to see you. Today we have a special guest with us, you can see our newest artist is currently hiding in Miss Hermione's stomach. For this young artist's sake, today we need to keep all classical solvents closed and out of the main area to keep fumes down to an absolute minimum. If you are continuing a project today and _have_ been using solvents, let me know and I can get you set up with a compatible potion, or we can figure out how to continue working today without compromising anyone's safety.

    "Furthermore, for those who are going to be working on the theme of the day, I had a suitably dreary word to explore today—” a few chuckles met this remark, “— but in honor of this special guest I'm going to take my artistic license and use it to change the theme today to 'family.’ Have a good time!”

    “I didn't realize being here would make it difficult for other people,” Hermione said, worried. “I can use a Bubble-Head Charm…”

    “If you use that charm, you won't be able to see the lower half of your painting,” Sebastian countered reasonably. “Several solvents and potions can be mixed interchangeably to no ill effect. Your presence here is not a hindrance.”

    “I don't remember the words to set up the black things and the… memory spell,” Ron spoke up. Harry heard the slight defensiveness in his tone and hurried over to help, vaguely aware of Sebastian offering similar, calmer assistance to Hermione behind him.

    Once his friends were set up and distracted with the spell Harry mouthed _'thank you’_ to Seb and got to work on his own canvas. He was pleased to have such a happy word to work with this week… things had been stressful enough without battling extra triggers.

    He thought about what he wanted to paint, and in the end he dismissed memories of playing with Teddy, feeling Hermione's baby kick, and Sirius offering for him to move in with him at the end of third year. Instead, after he cast the spell, he went hunting after a memory of Sebastian and he together at the breakfast table, where Seb was sternly offering Prince a piece of his rasher as a reward for delivering the paper that morning. That was the family he wanted to claim, the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life defending.

    When he cancelled his shield he noticed that Seb must have used the spell as well, and had chosen a memory of sitting next to Harry on the sofa, Harry's feet tucked into his side, and the younger man peeking nervously over his binder at him. He'd must have been able to call up the memory fairly quickly, as he'd started after Harry had put _his_ shields up and he was already out and setting up his palette-table.

    “I remember that,” Harry said fondly. “I was sure you were going to make me keep my feet to myself, but you just hugged them in closer.”

    He smiled warmly at Seb, trying to show on his face what that moment, and _this_ one where he was being chosen as Seb's family, meant to him. Sebastian's eyes flicked to his own portrait and smirked.

    “And yet, there I am on your canvas scolding your bird. Why you are mooning at me in that scene I have no idea.”

    “You were treating him as if he was your own. Stern parent, soft parent,” Harry explained, pointing his finger at first Seb, then himself in turn. “I've heard that's normally how it goes, with raising kids.”

    Hermione sniffled behind him, and both Sebastian and he turned alarmed eyes to her easel, where she stood, stoutly ignoring the increased attention. He didn't know whether she was reacting to what he'd said or to her own memory of Ron holding out the ring with a kind smile, but was uncomfortable with the potential of tears either way.

    “If you'd like to work more slowly today, you can take that home next week when it's drier and finish it on your easel at home,” Sebastian reminded him.

    “I might,” Harry admitted. “I'll never be as good as you, but seeing my old painting today made me feel kinda proud. It might be nice to have a collection of happy moments that I made myself that I keep around.”

    “You have a good eye for composition,” Sebastian disagreed gently. “You can develop your own style… impressionism, expressionism, even abstraction, these styles might be something to look into as they do not rely on photorealism to get the point across.”

    “I don't think I'd want to make a living out of it the way you do, but for fun it might be nice to look at some examples,” Harry agreed. “Can we go to the library and look up some?”

    “I have… more books than I need on the subject,” Sebastian confessed, a slight rise of color in his cheeks telling Harry that he was embarrassed about his collection. “I'd love to share them with you.”

    “Okay,” Harry said happily, turning to gather the paints he'd be using that day out of his bag. He heard Hermione sniffle again, but he deliberately ignored it in favor of guessing how much of each color he'd be using.

    “I should make you your own set of paints,” Sebastian said out of nowhere as Harry was mixing his first color with his palette knife. Seb was not normally this talkative once he'd gotten absorbed into painting.

    “You would do that?” Harry asked, excited. Then he frowned. “Aren't they expensive to make? I had the impression they were several steps beyond what someone like me would use. I don't feel like at my skill level I'm worth using them up.”

    “ _You_ are definitely worth it,” Sebastian replied firmly. “Whether or not you _want_ them is the only question I'll entertain in regards to making them for you.”

    “I do,” Harry replied softly.

    “Okay then,” Sebastian said, smiling contentedly at his canvas as if he hadn't just laid down the law. “We can make a list of your most-used colors, and I can make you _my_ version.” He sounded so smug that Harry laughed.

 

 

    “Were you saying all that stuff so you could charm Hermione?” accused Harry as soon as they'd successfully Apparated home.

    “I didn't say a single thing tonight I didn't mean,” Sebastian replied mildly, but Harry was onto him.

    “But you _did_ say more than you usually would have, had she not been there, in order to impress her,” Harry guessed shrewdly.

    “Did you notice their paintings, love?”

    Harry's head tilted, not understanding the change in topic. “Ron proposing, and he and Hermione kissing at the Battle of Hogwarts.”

    “You were present in both of their paintings, love. Off to the side, perhaps, but they didn't position the image to exclude you. They purposefully left you in. You are a part of _their_ family. I wanted them to see… us. So they would know.”

    Harry hadn't even noticed himself in his two best friends’ paintings. He felt a fresh wave of appreciation for Sebastian for pointing it out, and for taking care of him by taking care of _them_. “I love you,” he said, hoping it was enough to convey how he was feeling for the man in that moment.

    “And I you.” He patted his pockets as he removed his cloak, and frowned. “I didn't bring my potion with me and it's been over three hours since the last time I took it. I'll be right back, and I can pull out some books for you before dinner.”

    “Okay,” Harry said, hanging his own cape and wandering into the living room just as Sebastian loudly spat out his potion onto the floor.

    “Seb?” Harry called, alarmed.

    “It's been sabotaged,” the older man whispered, mouth slack with horror. He rifled through his cabinet, opening the bottles there and pouring them out, one by one into a food-safe cauldron from the kitchen as he realized they were all ruined. “No, no, no,” the normally composed man muttered as they all failed his inspection.

    “It's okay, I'll just Disapparate,” Harry said hurriedly, drawing his wand. “Send me an Patronus when you have gotten yourself a replacement vial, alright? I'll be at Ron and Hermione's.”

    Sebastian still looked worriedly at the cabinet, but nodded.

    “Use the spells; check for intruders. I love you. _Apparate!_ ” He spun on his heel, being squeezed as the spell took hold, but then felt himself slammed down by an outside force. He turned back around to see Seb staring back at him in horror. “ _Apparate! APPARATE!”_ The last effort knocked him back down so hard he fell, still twirling, to his knees, grunting at the impact.

    “Harry, stop — there must be a Disapparition Jinx up.”

    Harry ran to the front door, but the deadbolt refused to turn no matter how hard he attempted to manually unlock it. “ _Alohomora!”_ he cast then, to no effect. “ _Finite incantatem! Aberto!”_ He stopped just short of using the Reductor Curse to blast his way out of the house, and turned slowly to see Sebastian had followed him, standing just outside the entryway with an utterly miserable look on his face.

    “We’re under attack,” Harry gasped out.

    “No,” Sebastian disagreed. “They targeted my Potion supply. I’ve been found, and they want you to know who I am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun, dun, dunnnnnnnnnnnn~
> 
> It's here, isn't it. We'll get through it together. Until then, all my love, SE <3


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Seb decide what they should do next. Glass breaks.

# Chapter Twenty-Four

    “No,” Harry moaned, yanking on the door handle fruitlessly. “You’re not ready to show me yet.”

    “I believe it is out of our hands.”

    Harry gasped as inspiration struck. “Quick, blindfold me! You can cancel the spell when you get more potion!”

    “Harry, no. It will be… what it is. You can’t stay blindfolded when whoever has done this is still waiting to see the effects.”

    “Then we take them out beforehand,” growled Harry, gripping his wand.

    “We cannot leave the house,” Sebastian reminded him gently. “The trap is set. We can fight our way out when the cage door is unlocked.”

    “What do we do?” Harry whispered.

    “Wait for the potion to wear off. Wait for whatever they want to come to pass. I suspect they probably believe you will kill me.”

    Harry could only gape in horror. “Kill… you… why?”

    “If it is who I suspect, then they will be upset with me for helping to bring down their Lord, and will incorrectly think you blame me for actions taken in order to ensure his eventual death.”

    Harry _knew_ that he should know who his fiance was by those words, but the only man who he thought _could_ fit that description had unmistakably died right in front of him. There was no going back from those wounds. From the life leaving his eyes, the way the leaking memories had suddenly cut off their escape. Harry shuddered.

    “Augustus Rookwood was never found,” Sebastian commented idly. “As an Unspeakable he had more than enough command over his wand to have broken past my wards and sealed us inside. He is nasty enough of a person to think my own lover killing me is the right style of revenge.”

    “I _won’t kill you_ ,” Harry protested.

    “ _I_ know that. You _may_ never want to see me again, though, which may as well be the same thing at this point.”

    “I _told_ you I love the you that you have been with me. The soul of Sebastian, that is who I love. Whatever happens when that potion wears off, we will face it together, just like we promised last night. Okay?”

    But Sebastian just stared at him like he was already losing him, so Harry sighed in resignation. “Let’s go wait in the living room. You normally take the potion every two hours and forty-five minutes, right? How much time do you think we have left?”

    “I took an extra-large dose of it this time, to last the entire class. I’ve become… complacent. I didn’t measure exactly, knowing we’d be coming right back afterwards. It could be any second, it could be another thirty minutes.”

    “That’s a large window,” grumbled Harry. “Which is,” he corrected himself clearly, “obviously not your fault, but the mystery asshole who’s done this to us.” Sebastian sat on the single seater across from the couch which they almost never used, deliberately separating himself from Harry.

    Harry let out another frustrated breath and sat in his normal place across from Seb, kicking off his shoes and resting his chin on his knees, keeping his eyes steadily on the man in front of him.

    “I’ve never seen you look so sad,” Harry said after a few minutes of watching his love suffer and feeling so helpless to stop it. “Is there nothing I can do to convince you that I _know_ who you are, without knowing who you were?”

    “Probably not,” Sebastian rasped, as if he'd been silent for years instead of minutes. “I am a stubborn man, after all. Ah, it is starting.”

    Harry knew who his fiance was halfway through the transformation. He’d seen the face often enough, in nightmares: screaming to be saved. Vaguely, he heard a soft but sharp crack in the kitchen, but he couldn’t _register_ it; it was if the sound was completely alien.

    Feeling disconnected from what was happening in front of him he looked away, down, then noticed his hand there — but _it_ wasn’t real either. _‘If my hand’s not real_ — _’_

    “Harry.”

    Severus Snape was at his feet, holding his not-real hand, and saying something — it wasn’t real —

    The entire house exploded in a shower of glass and pottery, routes of escape untouched and whole in their frames.

    Professor Snape ducked instinctively, but then forced himself out of it to shield Harry instead. Harry hadn’t moved because Harry wasn’t real. None of this was real, the entire world — the universe? — wasn’t real. What year was it? Had they found all of the Horcruxes yet?

    “Harry,” Snape called desperately. His voice sounded like Seb’s. A small part of Harry returned in response.

    “Your voice,” Harry said, but _he_ didn’t say it — someone else did through him. “How did I not notice… your voice is the same.” What was he saying? There were more important things... did they get the Horcruxes? He looked down at his hand, held in that thin, soft grasp of his Professor, and thought it _might_ be his after all.

    “I don’t feel right.” He knew enough to be able to say that. He heard something falling, something small and light, and he was able to understand that it was something ceramic that had probably broken earlier.

    “Harry.” Professor Snape was _crying_ , looking at him like he’d failed to kill Voldemort and everyone was going to die now. But he had. He'd given Voldemort a chance, he remembered. But then he killed himself by not taking it. His thoughts during that fight had been entirely, completely on the man in front of him.

    “You died,” Harry said, and he had enough control over his body to whisper it, rather than drone the words in monotone.

    “Yes,” Snape answered, “but I planned for it. I didn’t want my body to be... used, so I implanted a Portkey in my leg that was set to go off the moment it touched a corpse. The Headmaster knew about it and he had a proximity ward made for a House Elf who was able to revive me, under his instructions. He planned for everything — for anything.”

    “You were _dead_ ,” Harry whispered again.

    “Only for a few minutes. I saw Albus. And your mom. I’d almost crossed over when I was given the option to go back. Lily convinced me. She mentioned you. I wasn't supposed to say.”

    Harry closed his eyes, only realizing then that his lashes were wet. “I saw Dumbledore too. I guess that means there _is_ an adventure waiting for us after all.” He still felt off, as if he were feeling too much to feel anything at all, but he remembered with a jolt why Severus Snape was on the floor in front of him.

    “ _You’re_ Seb?” he exclaimed. “I thought — the only person who it could have been was you — but you were dead and —” Harry caught sight of the destruction around them. “What… happened? I… thought it was a dream.”

    “I think you fully dissociated for a few minutes,” Seb-who-was-Snape said softly. “It’s understandable, your lover melting into your hated professor…”

    Harry’s frowned. “That’s… not it. _Wasn't_ it. If that was it, wouldn’t I feel that way now? I think — it’s hard to feel anything; it’s like all my emotions are above my head — but I think it’s because… I was really messed up after you died, and finding out you were fighting to keep me alive my whole life… that you _loved_ my _mother._ But you are alive. You are... _my_ Seb?”

    “ _Yes_ ,” the kneeling man said, his voice pleading. “I am. I swear I am.”

    Harry looked down at his hand and knew it was his. He looked at the hand within his own, and came to another realization. “Holding your hand feels like I am… it feels like I’m doing something wrong _._ Like I’m cheating on Seb, even though I know it’s you. That may… also be a factor in why I… felt weird. My head feels weird trying to figure out you are Seb and Seb is you.” Snape tried to let go of him, but Harry tightened his grip and refused to let it happen. “I need to get over it,” he said, determined.

    “Do you… are you saying… there is a chance that you...”

    Harry looked back into those dark eyes, forcing himself to see the expression on the face, rather than the face itself, just as he tried to do with Seb-as-Marco every day. That expression — fear and hope and love — spoke to him deeply. “I told you. I fell in love with the you that cares for me exactly the way I need you to. I can't lie, I'm having a really hard time combining the two people I know into one  _you_ , but like I said days ago… if you act like who I _know_ you are inside, you’re still everything I could ever need or want. No matter who the face belongs to.”

    Snape’s forehead rested on top of their linked hands. “I love you,” he sobbed. Harry threaded his hands through his black hair, which was cut identically to how he wore it while disguised as Marco. Still disconnected from reality, he hoped the other man would stop crying soon. He was unsure how to handle both a drastically new appearance _and_ a drastically new set of emotions.

    “I like your hair,” he said, deliriously hoping to lighten the mood, to get back to normality as fast as possible so he could even remotely begin to handle this. “It really suits your face — both faces, actually, but especially this one.”

    “It was popular in Grindelwald’s time,” his former professor answered, and when he went to wipe his eyes out of view Harry stopped him and finally returned the favor by wiping them himself. Whatever the man was going to say next didn’t emerge as a painfully vulnerable look crossed his face instead.

    “I _know_ it’s you,” Harry assured him softly. “There’s just a lot more… _emotion_ tied to you now. A lot of _pain_. I am processing. Will you stay with me and help me process this?”

    “Always,” Snape-who-was-Seb responded, and Harry flinched at the loaded word coming out of Snape’s face with Seb’s voice.

    “You said that about my mother,” he explained, when the face still in his hands also twitched in response to his unpleasant reaction.

    “And it’s still true… albeit more like Hermione is to you, now. I saw her, when I was dead. She said what I needed… what I’d always needed to hear to finally let her go.”

    “Why did you —” Harry interrupted himself with a startled cry, having noticed an effect from his accidental magic — a specific piece of damage that was absolutely unforgivable. “Your painting. Oh, _no…”_

    Through the center of Seb's most-loved masterpiece was a long tear, a large shard of broken lightbulb still caught in the base of it. Harry’s heart broke at the unwelcome sight of it, and what it must look like to Seb, who had shared his precious treasure with him with so much pride.

    “Breathe, Harry, don’t let yourself disappear again.”

    “I’m still _here_ ,” Harry responded, unable to keep his disgust with himself from saturating his voice. “I’m so sorry, Seb…”

    “I can fix it,” the other man said gently. “Don’t get worked up, and breathe like I asked you.”

    “But it looks _bad,_ ” Harry protested. “It looks like something a jilted lover would do on _purpose_ when they’re angry. I swear I didn’t mean for it to happen, I _swear_ I can handle this. I would never — could never —” In his mind swirled the agony that Seb would think he struck out against him to hurt him on _purpose_ , for revenge. He had sworn _again_ and _again_ that he would love whatever —  _whoever_ lay beneath Seb’s disguise. He _would._

    “It was an accident, and I can fix it. Don’t cry, love.”

    “I don’t want to hurt you,” Harry said wetly. Sebastian's master work looked like it had been slashed with a _knife_. “Either Severus Snape who loved me enough to stay with me forever, honestly under disguise, or Seb who loved me openly. I don’t want you to ever think for a moment that I wanted to hurt you because I saw your true face.”

    “I know, I know.” He shook his head, expression transforming into disbelief. “I honestly am not sure I believe this is real. I am so grateful for you right now. I _knew_ I had lost you, the moment I understood those potions were unusable. The moment you realized you couldn’t leave. How can you be here, in my arms, crying _for_ me?”

    “I love you,” Harry said, as if it explained it all. _He_ certainly felt like it did. "You told me from the beginning you didn't like who you were in the war. I haven't been  _tricked._ Who you are... makes perfect sense. That's how I know you were as open as you could be under the mask, because nothing you said conflicts with — with _you_."

    “You have never dissociated before.” Harry recognised that familiar, contemplative tone.

    “If you tell me again that you think we should take a step back to being just friends I will _seriously_ have to break in my easel. 'Loss’ paintings _every_ where.”

    “Just not in the bathroom,” Snape said lightly.

    “You're _not_ serious.” Harry felt a frisson of rage bubble up. The man couldn't possibly be implying that their relationship was over when Harry was  _so_ determined to  _try._

    “Ah, just another joke that has fallen flat. I cannot live without you either. Oh, Harry, how can you _still_ be mine?”

    Harry slumped. “I thought you were dead.”

    “I am not anymore,” he responded patiently, warmly. "I lived on to come back to England and meet you, again."

    Harry tentatively reached out a hand to smooth Snape's hair back into place. He felt pretty solid right then, solid enough to feel embarrassed that he'd babbled on about the haircut whilst knocking it all out of order. “I died too, so I guess I get it. We still need to confront Rookwood.”

    “The doors unlocked while you were… away.”

    Harry jerked back, alarmed once more. “Why didn’t you say something?”

    “You needed me.” He sounded like he too thought that explained everything. To Harry, it certainly _didn’t._

    “We need to assess the perimeter,” Harry commanded impatiently. A fight was at hand, he had to get it together and _keep Seb safe_  — especially now. “ _Merlin,_ blubbering like a  _idiot_ while we were totally unsecured. I’ll check the back, that’s where the spells came from.”

    “I will check the front. I assume whoever did this is waiting for you to stumble out, devastated, so they can finish you off.”

    “How did I not know it was you?” Harry asked rhetorically after the incredibly morbid statement. Snape backed up, leaving room for him to rise off the couch. He shoved his feet into his shoes after checking then for glass, then stood, crossing to the intact bay window and attempting to avoid as much glass as possible underfoot.

    “I found our assailant,” his deep voice stated flatly from the entryway as Harry peered unsuccessfully out the back window. “It is Miss Weasley. She is waiting outside for you, looking quite impatient with her wand drawn. I gather she thought you would have come out of the house by now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, what an emotional chapter. There's much more for these two to deal with, but during a time of emergency it seems that Harry is doing his best to hold tight to his promises. 
> 
> Dissociation is super real, and super terrifying to those who have to go through an intense version like Harry's. I only partially dissociate, at times when I feel confronted, unable to escape, backed into a corner I go into a zone where I can only make guesses as to how I would normally feel or act. It's super bizarre to have someone say something and have to logically think "I *think* I would normally feel this or that way... but I'm not sure..." making will guesses about myself but not *knowing* if I was actually right or not. It really does feel like my emotions are in a ball, floating above my head, just high enough that even if I stretched out my hands straight up I still wouldn't be able to reach them and pull them back down into my head. (I've even thought that, 'if i stood up on the couch i could probably grab them... oh but i'm in the middle of an argument right now, better not') It is a very specific sensation.
> 
> I did some Googling to find first-person discussion of dissociation of this depth. Seeing his hand and understanding that it was a fake hand, not real, yet somehow connected to his body and the realizations about his entire life and universe swiftly following is directly inspired by a very revealing testimony I found in an article on the phenomenon.
> 
> You guys I am so nervous to share this chapter with you all. I hope it's okay.


	25. Chapter 25

# Chapter Twenty-Five

    Harry couldn’t understand what he meant. “Ginny… took out Rookwood?” he asked as he returned to Snape’s side in the entry hall.

    “No, I believe _she_ is our Rookwood. I may have overestimated the bloodlust of our opponent. It is possible she thinks you will come running out into her arms after unmasking me.”

    “Seriously, how did I not know it was you?” Harry asked incredulously. “‘May have overestimated the bloodlust.’ I can see both halves of you saying that so clearly.”

    “I was dead,” shrugged Snape, a rather casual gesture for the man of either appearance. “How would you like to handle your ex? I am not feeling very forgiving, no matter how miraculous your response has been.” His long fingers stroked the handle of his wand desirously.

    “I will call her brother to come deal with her, in an official capacity,” Harry said firmly. “I don’t know what her goal is here, and I won't go out there, wands blazing and put either of us at risk. She’ll listen to Ron. I’m not going out there, and I don’t think you should either.”

    “She has a lot to answer for,” Snape muttered.

    “That’s why I’m going to call him in _officially_ ,” explained Harry. “I’m not calling her big brother, I’m calling ‘Auror Weasley,’ who happens to share a sibling relationship with her. He _will_ take her in, with less fight than if it were a stranger.” Snape nodded, and Harry cast his Patronus, though it took an extra second to gather up enough uncomplicated happiness to cast it.

    “Ron, I am calling upon you and your partner in an official capacity to come apprehend your sister who is on Seb’s front lawn. Seb’s house is — what’s the Muggle address?”

    Snape gave it, and Harry continued.

    “Ron, we think Ginny is the one who has been tormenting us with the spells. We _do_ know circumstantially that she has broken into Seb’s home tonight and tampered with his belongings in… it can only be an attempt to try and break us up, as silly as that sounds compared to what we've been through. She’s waiting outside right now and she looks impatient. I feel like I don’t know her motivations right now, so I am going to stay inside the house until you come get her. I’m sorry, Ron. Okay, that's the message.”

    As the stag sped away, Snape pulled him into his embrace, though they both still kept an eye out the window at Ginny, who had started to pace.

    “So what do I call you?” Harry asked, cautiously holding the man around his waist. “Is it Sebastian or is it Severus? Seb-verus?”

    “While I appreciate the humor involved in that last one, I am Sebastian. I told you in the beginning I am never stepping back into the role of Severus Snape, and that just as true now. I am Sebastian Prince, and have been since the day I survived.”

    “If you’d told me your new last name I would have guessed it in a heartbeat.”

    “Which is why I never did. Thankfully, you never brought it up. It is not the most creative name changes, but it is the bloodline I was always the most proud of.”

    Harry backed up a little to look into the other man’s face. He was younger than he remembered, or maybe now Harry was older. “You must have had some fun thoughts when I named my owl ‘Prince.’ We barely knew each other at that point.”

    “It was… an interesting moment, to be sure,” Seb admitted. His hair was back out of shape from how Harry had fixed it earlier, but he could still tell how much the strong features of his face improved with the removal of the heavy locks.

    “I hesitate to ask…” Harry began.

    “I’m sure you have many questions. We’ll never get through them all if you cannot bring yourself to ask in the first place. Just ask, and I’ll tell you if it is inappropriate after. Though, now that you know who I am, I cannot imagine much I would hold back from you.”

    “Well… it’s not a very _flattering_ question. I couldn’t help but notice your teeth are straight, and… lighter.” Harry covered his face in his embarrassment, but it was an important upgrade for him as this man’s current — and still, hopefully, only forever — partner, and he wanted to know more about what brought about the change.

    “Ah, yes I see why that question was… questionable.” Sebastian covered his mouth as he spoke, obviously embarrassed as well. “You might have noticed Marco can be quite insistent.”

    “He _did_ manage to convince me to go into _his_ house, away from _you,_ after I’d just been shot out of the sky,” Harry agreed drily.

    His eyes crinkled a bit, and Harry thought he might be smiling — or at least tempted to — behind his hand. “Yes, well, he had a lot of things to say about my appearance. I finally took my wand to my teeth and hair just to get him off my back. If I had not met you I think he was beginning to get an idea of playing matchmaker, next.”

    “You wear colors now too,” Harry said, though his eyes were back on Ginny, who looked like she was debating storming the door. _“Colloportus.”_

    “Good idea," Sebastian said in response to the spell. "Purposefully adding color to my wardrobe was one of the first things I did after I succumbed to Marco’s nagging about my hair. I didn’t want to live the life of the man I was, and that small change made me feel different about myself. I wanted to continue that trend. Here’s Mr. Weasley now.”

    “Ron,” Harry corrected absentmindedly watching as his friend and his coworker squared off with Ginny. “You know him as Ron now.”

    “I suppose you are right. She’s really going to let him disarm her, just like that? They only argued for half a minute.”

    “He’s her big brother. He’s always looked out for her; I guess if he’s arresting her then she knows she’s done something wrong. Hmm, I’ll have to buy you new light bulbs.”

    “I have a hard time seeing whose fault this is other than your ex. She can pay for them.”

    Harry laughed a little. _That_ was very Seb, a little sarcastic but still trying to spare his feelings. He as Professor Snape had been caustic right up to the end. Harry was very glad for the difference.

    “Still, we can start cleaning until someone comes back to take our statement. They’ll probably just send Ron back, even though he wasn’t officially on the case. They brought him to Andromeda’s too, because of his connection to me.”

    “Keeping their War Hero happy,” Sebastian commented lightly.

    Harry grinned at him. “ _You’re_ a war hero too, you know. Order of Merlin, First Class. It’s probably in a drawer somewhere, since you never collected it.”

    “It found me,” Seb admitted, repairing what he could before following up with cleaning charms. “I am the one with it in a drawer. I also got the certificate that my spell was submitted and accepted.”

    “Oh, Merlin,” Harry whispered, looking at him in horror. “I forgot I talked to you about that.” He frowned. “You thought I was going to steal your credit, silly man.”

    “I had a lot of previously-held opinions that you were constantly proving wrong. I was dead, an easy target. I think I probably fell for you a little when you got angry with me in return.”

    “That early?” Harry said, shocked.

    “I came back to England to start the art therapy for _you_ ,” Sebastian admitted, pausing his work. “The papers were offering increasingly histrionic reports of your mental state. I felt like my work keeping you alive was not done. I don’t believe in fate, but perhaps something else was at play, that everything should have turned out like this.”

    “I don’t either,” Harry said. “Even though my entire life and death were dictated by others’ belief in the prophecy. I am glad you decided to come back.”

    “Me too.” And they went back to work.

    They had not yet cleared the largely-unused front part of the house completely when a Patronus from Ron zoomed into place by his feet.

    “I’m heading your way soon, mate. I’ll tell you more when I get there, but Ginny confessed to everything. She’s saying some crazy stuff… I need to check it with you to verify she’s not legitimately gone off the deep end. See you soon.” Ron’s voice was noticeably strained. Harry felt bad that he had to deal with this, but was thankful for his friend taking his sister away to be processed all the same.

    “I’m going to the garage. I’ll come back out when I hear him leave,” Sebastian said. “I am not ready to reveal myself… though I know that is what she must have told them to make them doubt her sanity.”

    “I’ve never been out to the garage,” Harry responded.

    “It’s my brewing lab,” Sebastian admitted. “If you saw it, you may have had some questions, so I didn’t go out there when you were also here.”

    “I should have known it was you when you gave me that Calming Draught yesterday.” Harry mused again. “It was too effective for just anyone to have made.”

    “Flatterer,” Sebastian teased, pressing a chaste kiss against his temple before going off to hide. Harry was grateful he didn't try to kiss further in on his face — it was still very odd to see his former Professor acting identically to his lover.

    Seb had good timing, because Ron Apparated in almost immediately after the door to the garage closed. His friend’s mouth was set in an unhappy line, but he gave Harry a tired smile as soon as their eyes met.

    “Didn’t think when we left Dean’s place earlier that I’d be seeing you again so soon,” the redhead joked, but Harry could see that he was not feeling great about the whole situation.

    “You were so quiet at the gallery, we needed to stage something big to bring out out of your shell,” Harry said, equally as monotoned.

    “Better not say anything that might be misconstrued while I’m here officially,” Ron said, sighing. “I need to take your statement. Sebastian's too, if he’s willing. Harry, Ginny is telling everyone who talks to her that your fiance is Snape in disguise. I don’t want to believe my sister is crazy but…” Ron finally caught sight of some of the destruction beyond the zone they’d been able to clean.

    “It’s true,” Harry said softly. “I knew he was in disguise, hiding from anyone who might make him relive his role in the war, from the very first time we had tea. I just didn’t know who he was. No — that’s not true — I know _who_ he was, I just didn’t know his face and birth name. He says he is Sebastian, now, and wants to move on. Things are a little… difficult, right now. He's not ready to make an official statement. He may not ever be.”

    “If I get enough from you, he may not need to,” Ron said, still frowning. “Are you still… _with_ him? Even after this? He's _Snape.”_

    “No, he's Sebastian,” Harry replied firmly. Maybe if he said it strongly enough he could convince himself as well. “I love him. And… he loves me. More than I've ever seen anyone love another person… more, even, than your mom and dad. Despite who he is, somehow he managed to do that. We’ll get through this too… I know we will.”

    The end of his monologue was dipped in desperation, and Ron clapped him in the shoulder, deciding not to comment further. That action alone showed just how far Ron had come in the past year.

    “I need to take your statement before I can tell you any of Ginny's confession. If you can, try not to connect anything to her that you didn't see with your own eyes. You know we have to connect the dots on our own.”

    Harry nodded, knowing that Ron had already broken protocol and regulation by the handful by revealing as much as he had. “Let's move to the dining table. I'll need to repair some things and clear away some glass, if it's alright with you that I cast some spells.”

    “Yeah, it's alright mate. I know you're not going to turn your wand against the big bad Auror.”

    Harry's lips twitched.

    “There are a lot of paintings here,” Ron commented idly, keeping the required distance away from Harry as he repaired and cleaned the area around the small table.

    “Sebastian’s,” Harry said in between incantations.

    “I guess we’ve never seen much of his work. It’s wicked.”

    “His skill as an artist was the first thing that caught my eye about him,” Harry agreed. “It’s hard not to notice someone creating literal masterpieces next to you when you’re still figuring out what type of blue and red make the right kind of purple you need.”

    “Hey, that’s more than I can do,” Ron countered humbly. “ _Nothing_ came out right with my painting. _I_ mixed blue and red and got _grey_ , for Merlin's sake.”

    “You just need practice. Alright, we’re probably safe to sit now.”

    “Alright, mate. Let me get set up here and then we’ll start the interview.”

    Harry wondered if he should make tea while Ron set out the various forms and sheaves of parchment he’d brought, then realized that all of Sebastian’s nice teacups and his mugs were probably just shards in the cabinet, and decided against it. He couldn’t help but notice as Ron pulled out the familiar Auror Incident Report form that the top had been filled out before his arrival.

    “I’m impressed,” Harry said with a nod to the form. “I thought Trainer Hepburn was going to lose it if you had turned in another half-done report.”

    Ron colored. “Ah, yeah. Hermione’s been helping me make the best of the job. You know how it is.”

    “Hmm,” Harry replied, turning away. Yeah, he knew exactly how it was.

    “Alright. I got this bit done before I came, but I set down here that Sebastian _is_ still here. Is that the case? I need to mark it if he’s left the scene.”

    “He’s here, in another room,” Harry confirmed, though he didn’t specify _which_ room he was hiding in.

    “That’s all I need to know. Now, the time of the incident, then you can begin by telling me from the time you left my presence from Animated Outlooks in Diagon Alley.”

    Ron’s floating quill scratched across the paper as he spoke, and Harry knew their words would be quoted exactly from now until Ron laid it flat with his hand.

    “We Apparated straight here from the gallery,” Harry said promptly. “Upon arriving, Sebastian went to take his next dose of his potion—”

    “This is the Polyjuice Potion, correct?”

    “...Yes,” Harry grit out. He wasn’t planning on explicitly stating in the report that Sebastian had been using a disguise. As his friend, he hadn’t expected Ron would have pushed the issue either. “He entered into a consensual agreement to use another man’s appearance, and told me about it the very first time we spent time together socially. There was never any deception involved.”

    Harry kept his eye on the quill the entire time he spoke to ensure his exact words were captured on the paper. Ron, noticing the bite in his voice, mouthed _‘sorry, it’s important,’_ when their eyes met again.

    “We’ll need to verify the agreement with the relevant party, but that will be a separate, and hopefully very short, investigation. So, you came home, Sebastian went for his potion. What happened then.”

    “I followed him, and saw him spit out the potion. It’s probably still on the floor over there, if you need a sample. He was upset, and said the potion had been… I think he said ‘sabotaged.’” Ron nodded, watching the quill work, and motioned for him to continue.

    “He poured all the bottles out into a bowl; they had all been ruined. I attempted to Disapparate until he could get in a fresh supply, and that’s when we noticed the Disapparition Jinx was in effect.”

    Ron’s lips thinned, grim. Casting the Jinx without the proper permits was illegal. There was little chance his sister had acquired them. “Can you describe what happened when you tried to Apparate?”

    “It was like the spell worked, but then I was pushed back down. I tried again two more times, before running to the door, which was locked and wouldn’t respond to Unlocking, Canceling, or Opening charms. Sebastian thought it might be a vengeful Death Eater who had so far escaped justice. He thought the goal was for me to find out his identity, and then kill him in revenge for the death of Albus Dumbledore.”

    “The official position of the Ministry and the Auror Department is that Severus Snape is an innocent party in the aforementioned incident,” Ron cut in quickly, watching the quill with sharp eyes, before giving Harry a cheeky thumbs up and wink. “Please continue, Mr. Potter.”

    Harry rolled his eyes, but obeyed. “I wanted him to blindfold me to keep his secret until he was ready to share it, but he didn’t want me to be vulnerable with the unknown party still keeping us trapped. We went to the living room to wait until the potion wore off, and whoever trapped us was satisfied enough to let us out, or confront us himself.”

    Harry was silent for a few moments wrestling with the memory of how he'd felt, and Ron prodded gently, “What happened then, after you sat down?”

    “It took another… maybe ten minutes, and the potion wore off. I was… in a state of severe shock, and my magic escaped until Sebastian could bring me back from it.”

    “All this was caused by _accidental_ magic?” Ron asked, though his tone indicated that he was asking solely for the benefit of the quill, not because he was genuinely curious. “Let the record state that every glass or… uh, pottery item within view has been completely destroyed.”

    “Yes, it was accidental,” Harry said, fingertips digging into his opposite forearms. “It would probably be helpful for me to tell you that I’ve been in treatment for PTSD for the past year, and the events that occured out of my control tonight were definitely the largest collection of triggers I’ve ever confronted at once.” Just thinking about the moment he was confronted with the face of his dead, long-misjudged professor sent sharp tingles of fear tickling down his limbs.

    Ron shoved the quill away from the form. “We’re taking a break.”

    “I want to get through this.” Harry didn’t know how bad his anxiety was going to get if this took too much longer. He wanted to go see Sebastian, poke him and make sure he was still alive, but he also felt that if The Ron's questioning went on any longer as a result of taking a breather that he wouldn't _survive_ through it.

    “Get up, walk around, do something, but we can’t continue like this. The break will be noted on the form... but as your friend I can’t let you go on record when I can _see_ you’re losing control. Do you need to go see Sn— Sebastian?”

    “It would help,” Harry admitted.

    “Then go. I will be here, looking over what we’ve covered so far.”

    Harry left the table and went to the garage door. Cracking it open, he called “Seb? It’s just me,” before entering fully.

    The room was still clearly a garage, though instead of cars and a lawnmower there were two long, thin tables with different sized cauldrons sitting at even spaces. Two copper cauldrons were in use with evidence of fluxweed and knotgrass preparations beside the closest one, and Harry knew Sebastian had started a new Polyjuice brew. The man himself was sitting on a stool, having lifted his head from his hands when Harry entered. “What is it?”

    Instead of answering Harry went straight to him and burrowed himself into his arms, which came right around and clutched him as if Seb had thought once more that he’d not get the chance again. “You’re alive, right?” Harry asked, half-serious.

    “Very much so,” Seb answered. Seb-as-Snape seemed be the same height as Seb-as-Marco, and Harry was able to rest his head on his shoulder in the same way he always had. “Are you taking a break to calm down?”

    “Ron insisted. We were going over the part when my magic exploded everything.” Harry gripped the back of Sebastian’s robes, wrestling with another swell of emotion. “It was really scary… slowly realizing I’m not real… nothing’s real.”

    “I cannot imagine,” Sebastian said, a hand softly stroking through Harry’s hair. “You are safe now. Have you been told her motivations?”

    “Not yet, we have to finish my statement before he can share a separate part of the case with me. It’s to keep my additions clean of influence, though he did break the rules to tell me she confessed before we started.”

    “Are you feeling solid enough to go back out there?”

    Harry shook his head into the other man's chest, but backed away after a final squeeze anyway. “I think now that the danger has fully passed, I am having trouble reining in everything in here,” he said, looping in his hand in a circle around his head.

    “If you have need, I will be here.”

    Harry held tightly to his hand for another moment, wishing beyond reason that he could stay and they could excise the ugly, black, something that had made everything feel so unfamiliar and  _new_ between them. He sighed and let go; that would have to come later.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Sebastian wrestle with Ginny's confession, their relationship, and what to do next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Er -- odd question. Did the last chapter um, not do well? I couldn't help but notice a massive drop in comments, especially from those who have been with me from the very beginning. I have been wondering if perhaps I massively missed the mark, though it is exactly the way i wished it — more development between our protagonists <3

# Chapter Twenty-Six

    After Ron left — heading next door to Marco's after swearing not to set the Obliviators on him — Harry rested his head on his folded arms on the table and waited for Seb to come out and make everything better. He'd held it together admirably while Ron was speaking with him, but he was struggling with the contents of Ginny's confession. How could one person cause him so much anguish and be so _fucking_ clueless about it, he had no idea.

    Even though the Auror had left through the front door and didn't leave with the loud crack of Disapparation, somehow Seb still knew to reenter the room barely a minute after Ron had gone.

    “Oh, love,” he said sympathetically after catching sight of Harry. “I will make us something quick for dinner. Just keep breathing and I'll be back before you know it.”

    With that, Harry raised his head and pushed away from the table. “No. I destroyed your kitchen; I want to help. Are you okay to leave the potion? I thought the first part took longer than that.” He began repairing the shards in the cabinet where they kept their plates, and Seb opened the fridge and removed some untouched items for sandwiches.

    “Copper cauldrons speed the brewing time. The active stage for both halves are finished, and I can combine them as soon as the second half is done brewing tomorrow afternoon. I don't mind taking care of this while you rest, Harry.”

    He ignored the gentle prodding to leave the sandwich assembly to Sebastian alone. “Are you planning on hiding from me with the potion again?” he asked, hating how small his voice sounded, and clearing his throat afterwards to try and distract from it.

    “I started brewing thinking I would lose you if I didn't,” Sebastian said slowly, placing one sandwich on a repaired and cleansed plate before using the same small safe section of the counter to make another with ingredients Harry had prepared for him. “But after you came in to visit me, to make sure I was still here and to calm yourself, I felt a sudden guilt for not trusting you, not trusting the words you've told me, though you repeat them so often.”

    He finished the second sandwich, and they returned to the seats Harry'd cleaned. “I am still terrified to lose you, but I am also determined, now. You said you love the soul of me, but even now you have barely looked me in the eyes since I have been revealed to you.”

    Harry flinched, shame smothering the depressed curiosity he  _had_ been feeling as he listened, until a gentle, thin-fingered hand covered his. He chanced a look up, and those dark eyes regarded him with only compassion, an expression so unfamiliar on the face that Seb currently wore.

    “I believe you, that you fell in love with the soul of me," he said. "However, that soul wore a wrapper, and that wrapper demanded complete fidelity which you agreed to — with astounding totality, it turns out. It would be unreasonable for anyone to expect you to feel secure with any other body than that one without a considerable effort to ease the transition. So I am _determined_ to ease this transition for you. I am determined to earn the privilege of your beautiful eyes looking at me with love the way you did just four hours ago.”

    “You shouldn't _have_ to work hard to earn anything,” Harry argued, hating himself for putting Sebastian in this position. “You've already done a million and one things to earn my love already.”

    “— and the moment I stop, is the moment I prove I don't care about earning your love anymore. As long as I can help it, that is not going to happen. It's a _good_ thing it's not easy for you to throw yourself into the arms of another man. It means that you are mine, and only mine. If you don't think you can do this, if you think that my true face has too much history to overcome, I can take the potion forever. I adore you that much. I will do that… or, we can work out a method of me switching back and forth so you can see clearly that it is _me_ in both forms… until one day you won't need to see me in disguise at all to know truly and deeply that it is your Seb in here.” His free hand came up to tap the spot over his heart at the end.

    Harry opened his mouth to respond, and a hesitant knock on the front door interrupted. “The switch back and forth option,” Harry told Sebastian as he got up to answer the door. “That's the one I want. I want _you_ , the realest, most concentrated dose I can get. Stay here, just in case it's Ron at the door.”

    Sebastian nodded in agreement, and kissed his hand before letting him go. When Harry opened the door, he wasn't very surprised to see Marco there, looking the most uncertain Harry had seen in their two previous meetings.

    “Buonasera,” Harry greeted, saying the unpracticed word carefully. “Would you like to come in?”

    Sebastian must have gotten up as soon as he heard Harry speak Italian because he was already standing to meet them in the living room, greeting Marco far more fluidly than he ever could.

    “It is nice to see you too, amico mio,” their neighbor greeted, still uncomfortable. “It's a little dark in here, si?”

    “Sorry,” Harry said, using his wand to float out some candles from a lower cabinet which Sebastian then lit. “We had an… accident with the lights.”

    As the light of the candles reflected off the thousands of shards of glass littering every available surface, Marco gasped, then turned accusing eyes to Harry. “The man who visit my house says there is an incident next door he is investigating. I know Sebastian would not do this to his own home.”

    Seb put out an arm in front of Harry in a protective gesture. “This isn't his fault. We were... attacked, earlier. This is not the result of a domestic dispute.”

    His voice was hard, as uncompromising as when relaying instructions in class all those years ago, and Harry wondered again how he couldn't figure out who his love was before now. “It _was_ my fault, though,” he countered gently. “My magic escaped when I was… surprised.” Harry's eyes strayed over to Sebastian's masterpiece, grieving again.

    “I still blame our assailant,” Sebastian stated firmly. “Who is in custody, now,” he assured, addressing Marco. “The danger is over.”

    “Maybe a story for another time,” Marco said, and Harry got the impression that he was soothed only for the moment, but would still worry for his neighbor's safety. “The… Auror, he says he will not erase my memory so long I do not reveal your secret to the world. He says you spoke for me.”

    “Harry did,” Sebastian corrected. “I was hiding.” His tone grew bitter, and Harry slipped a hand into his to show his support.

    “Will you need a place to stay?” Marco asked, looking around dubiously.

    Before answering, Sebastian flicked his wand, sending a nearby pile flying back together in the form of the decorative bowl it had been. “We'll be alright; It will just take some concentrated effort to put things back together.”

    “Alright,” Marco relented. “We will talk tomorrow. I will bring lunch.”

    Harry and Sebastian accepted, even though he had not left room for them to do anything else. After the door closed, Sebastian cupped Harry's elbow tenderly in his palm. “Let's go get ready for bed. It has been a long day, and if you want, we can talk further laying down.”

    Harry spontaneously stepped forward to hug him again, taking a deep breath and discovering that the man smelled exactly the same as when he took the potion, an _extremely_ welcome surprise. “Okay,” replied simply.

    “Should I wear my pajamas?” Sebastian asked some time later when their ablutions were complete. Usually they slept in their pants, and Harry both appreciated the care and mourned the necessity of the softly worded question.

    “No,” he said firmly. “No steps backward. We had _sex_ two _days_ ago without your potion, for Merlin's sake.”

    “Don't be so hard on yourself that you push yourself to do things your heart and mind do not agree with,” Sebastian warned. “That situation was in a state of blissful,  _blind_ ignorance.”

    “You're right, of course, but I still think it's fine. If I close my eyes and you speak to me, it will be just like then.”

    Sebastian conceded and that's how they went to bed, gingerly wrapping themselves around each other in their usual sleeping position and trying not to make any wrong move. “Say something,” Harry whispered, and closed his eyes to concentrate on the experience.

    “What did Ron say about Miss Weasley’s confession?”

    Harry squeezed a little closer, needing his warmth to bolster his confidence. "Ginny was behind _everything._ The spells were supposed to be a new Find-You Charm her department was developing. She cast it for fun with the development team that one day when I was thrown out of Apparition, but then after she found out we were engaged and she didn't even know where I lived anymore she stole the notes from the primary on the project and started working on it at home. I really thought we were going to die at the hands of some evil, sick wizard, but it was just  _her_ trying to  _save_ me.

    "And I was wrong, it wasn't Ron who told her about us. He told his mum, swore her to keep it a secret, but she told Ginny anyway. Ron says she's in the Department waiting room already, panicking and demanding to see her daughter. She told the Prophet too -- Ginny, I mean. That was her first reaction, but then when I didn't retreat from you in homophobic shame..."

    Sebastian held him firmly and silently as he spoke, spewing details out of order and context in his frustration to get them all out of his head as fast as possible.

    "Ron says that she is adamantly declaring her innocence. That yes, she did those things, but that _I_ am sick and I needed her to do those things, to help me see reality, to return to normal. He s-said that she says that I've lost my connection to the real world after being shut away for so long in my depression, and that she's _scared_ that --"

    "It's okay, Harry," Sebastian interrupted softly.

    "I've gotten so u-used to analyzing problems within myself that her words actually do have an effect on me," Harry said, moving his head so that his wet eyes drained onto Sebastian's pillow instead of dampening his bare shoulder. "It's become so natural for me to listen to Matilda, or even you when you both direct me to see a problem differently that when I hear that _she_ thinks I'm completely out of my mind I automatically take the possibility seriously!

    "The past few months  _have_ felt like something out of fantasy. I am so _happy_ here, with you. Ever since that day where you agreed to come to tea every single facet of my life has improved, one after the other. I was miserable before, freaking out all the time, looking over my shoulder and wondering why she cheated on me and how I could move on when even thinking about her made me want to vomit. When you came into my life I had something to look forward to... to walk towards, instead of away from everything in my past. When I think all of that out, I feel... of course I'm not crazy, this is the realest anything has  _ever_ been. But then my mind goes back to how she put everything on the line, convinced I need saving from myself..."

    Sebastian stroked his back steadily, quiet and absorbing what he'd said.

    "Do you remember that day when she stormed into your apartment, screaming at you?"

    Harry winced. "Yeah. A part of her confession was that she'd used the Humanoid Presence Revealing Spell and saw us hugging. That's part of why she was so hacked off that day."

    "Those are not the actions of a — an intact person. And you bore her ire calmly, I remember."

    "I broke a few things."

    "Accidentally, because your emotions on the inside are not the stablest, admittedly. But you don't act on them. You hold yourself still and take things one step at a time while inside you a tempest rages. That's the difference here. You respect, wait, communicate. Miss Weasley demands, forces things in the shadows,  _torments._  To be frank, from our post-war dealings, I did not even realize she had the higher intelligence required to create and perfect such spells."

    “She works in the Department of Experimental Charms. That’s the reason she came to confront me that day at all, actually. They work with the Spell Registry quite often and she found the submission I sent in with your spell… that plus my friendship with you and she thought I was obsessed with older men in general. Once the Find-You Charm successfully found you last night, she took the first chance she had — when she knew we both would be attending art therapy — to check this place out and see how we were living.

    “According to Ron, she found your Polyjuice supply, came to the conclusion you were _tricking_ me into being with you and impulsively went through ruining every batch she could find _and_ cast _another_  in-development spell on something of yours to find out who you were. You were right, she was waiting outside to console me and ‘take me back.’”

    “She did a lot of sneaky, illegal things in order to convince you that she was the better option.” Sebastian's voice was full of disgust, and his arm pulled Harry closer, possessively.

    “She saw me at my worst, for a long time before we broke up,” Harry said grudgingly. “She is stuck in the viewpoint that I need to be cared for, decisions made for me. It _was_ like that between us for a while.”

    “You sounds like you're defending her.”

    And _Sebastian_ sounded jealous. Harry smoothed an assuring hand over his torso, marveling at the way he _remembered_ Seb in this body with his eyes closed.

    “No, I don't think so,” Harry disagreed, keeping his voice soft and soothing. “I certainly don't _forgive_ her. I just think… maybe I understand the ‘why,’ even if I don't understand the ability to actually _go_ to the extreme lengths she went to. I was thinking of asking you… what you thought of trying to aim for mandatory Mind Healer attendance for her, instead of Azkaban.”

    “No.”

    “...Oh.”

    Seb pulled him bodily to lay over himself in a crushing embrace that didn't feel entirely friendly. “You know who I am now,” he muttered gruffly into Harry's ear. “You _know_ there have been multiple occasions where people have committed _crimes_ against me and no one was held responsible. You _cannot_ ask this of me.”

    “Okay.” Harry knew he was pouting, and knew his voice didn't sound all that friendly either.

    “She burglarized our home and terrorized you for weeks. How could you possibly want _no_ justice? You were going to be an Auror!”

    Harry felt irritation rise, and started his breathing exercises before it devolved into actual anger. He felt Sebastian's hand stroke across his back in time with the count and realized the man was trying to help, even if he was mad at Harry too. That gave him the strength to keep calm — when otherwise he might have cut the exercises early and let the man have a ripe piece of his mind.

    “I _do_ want justice,” Harry argued eventually. “— but from what I heard from Ron, Ginny is not in a place where she can understand what she did to us. I don't want her to be tortured in Azkaban — for what? Three months, plus a fine? — and then afterwards be more determined than ever to get back what she thinks she's lost. I want her to be put under a Minimum Distance Order for both of us, this house, our owl, even Marco. To be forced to see a Mind Healer so that whatever is going on with her — the threat to us — is fully neutralized. I was there when she signed the intake paperwork to begin working in Experimental Charms, there will be huge repercussions there without us lifting a finger. Not to mention, she'll never work in the Ministry again.”

    “I am a vengeful man, my love.” Sebastian's grip relaxed minutely, and Harry shifted to make the snuggle actually reciprocated on his end.

    “I know,” Harry said, and another meter of the Sebastian/Snape divide faded as he accepted this fact about both of them at the same time. “I fear if she simply goes to Azkaban she'll never understand. She will suffer, but she'll never feel _guilt,_ because she had broken the rules to do the right thing... in her perspective.”

    “What are the ‘huge repercussions’ from her Department?” Sebastian's voice was still unhappy, but the heavy flavor of righteous anger had receded completely. His hands massaged their way into Harry's hair, bringing pleasant tingles to the area.

    “ _She_ didn't tell me everything at the time, but there was an Obliviation clause written in. If she is found using experimental spells in a personal, unlawful, or otherwise unofficial way the infraction can be evaluated and her entire scope of work there can be erased from her mind to protect their assets.”

    “You seem to have memorized that clause well.”

    “Ron just showed it to me in full earlier. He retook my statement about the various spell flashes, too. It seems as soon as she was arrested, her Head sent down her contract for the Aurors to look over, asking to be notified of any infraction even _before_ her official Hearing.”

    “So whether or not she goes to Azkaban she will lose her job and her credibility in her field forever.”

    “Yes…”

    “And the Minimum Distance Orders.”

    “Yeah.”

    Sebastian sighed. “Let me think about arguing for the Healer, love.”

    “Thank you.” Harry pushed up and gave him a kiss on his cheek, eyes still closed, and settled back down. Those hands in his hair returned to wrap around his back, and Harry shifted back into his usual sleeping position so they could drift off to sleep when they were ready.

 

 

    Despite not having slept well for two nights in a row, their third night — directly after the attack and reveal — was certainly no better. Harry dreamed of dissociating again. His brain apparently wasn’t ready to stop trying to figure out what happened, and played horrific scenarios simulating ‘what would happen if…?’ Finally at the end of a particularly horrid one Harry managed to escape to wakefulness, kicking Sebastian in his desperation to _move_ and prove he was really awake.

    “Harry?” Sebastian, called, alert.

    “Bad dream,” Harry said, gasping a little as the horror and the fight of the dream was still so strong in his mind. “It happened again. Everything wasn’t real. I cut my arm open and it wasn’t real. I cut you, and Ron, and Hermione just to see the baby inside, and no one reacted because no one was real.”

    “Oh, my Harry.” Sebastian sat up also, loosely bracing Harry’s body with his own. “It was just a dream. It sounds truly traumatic, but still just a dream. You are here with me, in our bed. You are real as you were three mornings ago... do you remember that?”

    Harry crooked half a grin despite his anguish. “Hard to forget.”

    “You felt real, and strong, and secure with me then, right? You are _exactly_ the same person right now. Nothing has been taken from you. You are just as whole and beautiful and fierce as before.”

    “Thank you Seb,” Harry’s voice was thick, though he was trying to hold back any tears from falling. His fiance’s words affected him deeply, exactly the way he needed them to.

    “I’m going to write your Healer. I do not think it is a good idea for you to wait until Wednesday to see her.”

    “I don’t want to go tomorrow. We have Marco for lunch and I’m going to Ron and Hermione’s for dinner still. It’s too much in one day.”

    “How about it I write her for an appointment on Monday?”

    Harry shifted to get up and do it himself. “I can do it.”

    “No, Harry. You lay here and rest. I’m serious this time, no helping. I’ll be right back before you know it.” Seb tucked him back in before giving him a warm kiss on his forehead.

    He tucked his bare feet into shoes before leaving the side of the bed and Harry heard his footsteps crunching down the hall and the stairs. Harry covered his ears with his hands, rolled over, and tried to forget their troubles right now were _so very his fault_.

 

 

    The morning came and went in a hurricane of Repairing and Cleaning Charms. They had cleaned up separately that morning, and Harry had felt his heart clench in guilt and shame when he woke to the sound of the water running, knowing Sebastian was in first to spare Harry from forcing himself to shower together. Breakfast was small, a lot of food had been compromised by the glass and everything that was even remotely suspect was thrown away.

    By the time Marco came by, Prince had returned from Healer Matilda confirming the next day’s appointment and everything that could be repaired with simple charms on the ground floor had been taken care of. It was surreal for Harry to stand in the midst of a pristine room that just hours previously he’d thought they’d _never_ be done with.

    Still, having plates available for Marco’s tomato-mozzarella salad and pasta with ham and capers was a definite relief, and it was interesting to see the two men interact. Sebastian knew way more Italian than Harry had been aware of, and sometimes during storytelling they considerately slipped into the other language during the hard parts that he hadn’t wanted to hear again. When Marco stood to leave, he showed genuine warmth for Harry, and he knew that something during those stretches of Italian must have proven his innocence to the wild-haired local.

    “You're actually friends, aren't you?” Harry asked when the door closed. He smiled at Sebastian, meeting his gaze directly. After the previous evening and half a day, he was getting used to seeing that face in his life again.

    “He used to come by every so often," he confessed. "Can't tell the man 'no.'”

    “How come he stopped?”

    “I asked him to.”

    “Because of me or…?”

    “Because of _me…_ and you. Because I wanted to get to know you and get closer with you naturally without… confusion.”

    “Hmm… well, I wasn't confused _today_. Too busy drooling at _you_ speaking Italian. You should tell him he should come by normally — that is, how he used to. _Also_ tell him I had nothing to do with you shutting him out, because he only _just_ decided I'm not a husband-beater.”

    Sebastian chuckled at that. “ _Marco_ was speaking Italian also, and he looks like the 'me' you fell in love with. It's hard for me to believe you didn't look at his face without any disorientation.”

    Harry frowned. “I really didn't. I've been having an easier time today as well, maybe the nightmares helped.”

    “I'm not sure I want to hear how stabbing me in your dreams helped.”

    Harry rolled his eyes. “You, and Ron, and Hermione and her baby. People I love. And you were wearing that face,” Harry said, pointing right between the other man's eyes. “— not your disguise. My brain is trying to figure it out, I _know_ it.”

    “... Morbidly interesting. I have an hour and a half before I need to tend to the potion, would you like to be my assistant while I repair the rip in my painting?”

    “Yes,” Harry said, wide-eyed. “What can I do?”

    Sebastian had Harry pull apart strings from excess untreated linen that had been trimmed off of other canvases during framing. He laid his painting flat, paint side down on a sheet on the floor after moving furniture out of the way to make room. After instructing Harry on the exact length he needed those strings to be cut he then poked through his cabinet of paints and solutions and pulled out a tiny jar holding some viscous, clear fluid.

    Working together Harry used his wand to hold the rip together while Sebastian laid the strings evenly across the break and then dabbed the clear liquid over their entire lengths. After that, he took another untreated piece of linen and laid that whole thing over the goopy strings, and painted more of the glue on top of and over its edges.

    “In five minutes that will be dry and I can finish concealing the rip from the other side,” Sebastian informed him. “Thank you for helping; keeping the rip in the exact position while painting hundreds of loose strings into place is exceedingly tedious an endeavor alone.”

    “I still feel sorry.”

    Sebastian squeezed his hand. “ _I_ still think you do not need to.”

 

 

    While Sebastian worked on the painting, Harry served him tea and hovered nearby, hoping everything would go perfectly but not wanting to get in the way or distract the man from his work. Seb seemed to understand that he needed to fret freely and mostly ignored him, even though Harry _knew_ he must have found every second of it exceedingly annoying.

    At last, Sebastian sat back, halfway through painting the tear into obscurity. “Time to decant the potion,” he said.

    “Oh? Is it already?” Harry asked, failing to appear as nonchalant as he was aiming for.

    “Copper cauldron,” Sebastian responded, raising an eyebrow to show that Harry's excitement had not gone unnoticed. “Well, come on then, I won't make you wait in here.”

    “I don't want to be…”

    “It's fine.”

    Harry hovered again, hands clenched onto his forearms behind his back in shame-filled eagerness. Sebastian carefully combined the two parts of the potion, stirring exactly the required amount of times and not a single once more, then carefully decanted the full cauldron into several clean bottles.

    “When I made this, it took a month,” Harry said idly, watching as the last bit was transferred into a large goblet, instead of a sealed container.

    “Hermione made it, and you didn't have access to pre-stewed lacewing flies,” Sebastian said as mixed in a bit of curly brown hair. “Bottoms up.”

    Even though the amount was rather a lot, he tipped back the entire cup, and the form of Severus Snape burbled back into Marco. One quick set of trimming spells later, and the Sebastian Harry had fallen for received an armful of emotional wizard.

    “I'm so sorry that I need this.” Harry whispered, squeezing the familiar shape tighter against him.

    “It's alright,” Seb replied, but his voice was thick too. Harry reached his head up and the taller wizard came down and they kissed desperately, the first one after their awful ordeal, until Harry pulled back with a gasping sort of laughter which quickly got out of control.

    “It still feels like I'm cheating,” he cackled. “Except now I see your real face as the one I'm wronging. Which one is it, brain?! I can't… I feel like I'm going crazy.” The hysterical laughter continued until his throat began to clog and he cut off all noise, preferring to choke than start laugh-crying like a _truly_ insane person.

    “Oh, Harry,” Sebastian murmured, not seeming to know how to handle the bundle of agitation in front of him.

    “How do we deal with this?” Harry asked, miserable.

    “Patiently,” his love replied. “It should seem… there are no quick fixes here. Look at me, sweetheart.”

    Harry loved when Seb used that nickname, and it helped to hear the endearment now. Sebastian's dark blue eyes stared right back at him, deeply as Harry ever thought they had before. “I am Severus Snape,” he said firmly. “— _and_ I am Sebastian Prince. I am still myself under both faces. If you need me to tell you this, then I am saying it now: I need your love whether in disguise or not. Please love me.”

    Harry fell into the other man's arms again, responding to the call with a fighting spirit. He _would_ love both forms. He wouldn't listen to that small voice that plagued him. He _would_ give Sebastian what he needs, and heal the part of _both_ of them that felt like it could never be loved in the process.

    “Seb,” Harry panted into his fiance's mouth. “That worked. How do you feel about garage floors?”

    “ _Spongify_ ,” Sebastian cast by way of response, and they both bore each other down onto the softened floor urgently.

   Clothes were torn away instead of removed carefully or bespelled off. Sebastian summoned a previously unopened jar of lube from the potions stores along the side of the room and a large portion of it greased up their lower bodies as they churned against one another. It was battle, it was triumph, it was love and the adrenaline of a near loss, and at it's peak their cries held loud evidence of their desperation to keep one another.

    After, completely naked and still running hands over each other as if they found the other person utterly wondrous, Harry mentioned something that had niggled in his mind before they'd distracted each other so thoroughly.

    “Why did you take such a large dose? I am going to Ron and Hermione's soon, and I thought the idea was to let me see you go back and forth often, anyway.”

    “I thought I might accompany you tonight... if you were open to the idea.”

    Harry peeled his head off the sweaty chest to stare down at him. “I would love that. Especially now… not to be away from you. But… just because they _know_ now doesn't mean you have to force yourself out of here. It's okay to be a very private person… just like you wished.”

    Sebastian tugged Harry's chin down towards his for a much gentler kiss then they'd just been sharing before responding. “Thank you for not pressuring me, love, but this is my desire. I wish to question Mister — _Ron_ , myself, before making any decisions in regards to his sister.”

    “Wow,” Harry said, stunned. “You actually  _are_ thinking about it.”

    “I am offended.”

    “Er… sorry. It's not often someone says they'll think about it and then actually takes the steps to do so. Especially given how important this is to you, it is... inspiringly honorable.”

    “If the greatest revenge there is in this situation is that Miss Weasley would regret this for the rest of her life, then that is the vengeance that I will take. That, and her being able to understand where she went wrong we'll keep both you _and_ I safe. I must be practical.”

    “Mmhm. Must be,” Harry agreed with grandiose flair. The resultant tickles that morphed into a contented make-out session made Harry feel lighter than air.

    Harry side-alonged Sebastian into Ron and Hermione's front hall a _little_ later than previously agreed upon. Seb had outright _paled_ upon seeing the time when they'd finally got up to wash, but Harry was unmoved, knowing that they'd both needed the release and subsequent cuddles. Even now he had a hard time keeping his hands to himself, wanting to re-establish once more that Snape-who-is-Sebastian was alive, was in love with him, was actually standing in his best mates’ foyer.

    “Kitchen!” Ron called. Hermione came to them instead of shouting her own location, eyes earnestly searching first Harry, then Sebastian.

    “Hello, you two,” Hermione said carefully. “You're looking… rather well, Harry, Sebastian.”

    “He put me back together,” Harry said, pointing at his lover, at the same time Sebastian gave a neutral “Thank you.”

    Hermione smiled at their differences, but her eyes strayed back to Sebastian. “It's good to see you again. We… _I_ have a lot of questions.”

    Harry reached a hand out in front of Seb, not realizing it was exactly how he himself had been defended the day before by the man behind him. “He's not here for that, 'Mione. He has questions of his own, for Ron, about Ginny.”

    “Thank you, love,” Sebastian said somewhat firmly before addressing Hermione once more. “If I object to one of your questions, I shall simply refuse to answer.”

    Harry's gaze darted to his as soon as the word ‘love’ entered the room, but Sebastian's eyes were on Hermione, challenging. He was staking a claim.

    “Cute,” Ron said grumpily from the kitchen, apparently having come to the same conclusion, “but you're nearly thirty minutes late and now the beans in the soup have broken and it is all completely over-stirred. I blame both of you. Go sit down.”

    Sebastian raised an eyebrow, but a suitably cowed Harry tugged him along into the dining room.

    “It's not perfect,” the redhead groused as he ladled the stew into their bowls. It smelled fantastic, and had large chunks of fat-striped ham dotting the spice-speckled contents.

    “It smells so good,” Harry moaned, and gave Sebastian a little kick under the table. In return, he received nothing other than a quelling glare before the man dipped his spoon cautiously into the soup and tasted it as if he expected it to poison him.

    “It tastes quite satisfactory,” he said finally, then looked quite bewildered as the entire room visibly relaxed in response. Harry shook his head minutely, amused that Seb had no real idea what his hyper-defensive behavior had been doing to the social atmosphere.

    “Thanks for cooking, honey,” Hermione said as Ron took his place next to her, across from Harry. No one sat at the head of the table during their Sunday dinners and Harry had always appreciated that, even though Sebastian sat at the head of the table at home and it felt just as right then.

    “I hope it's okay. If I'd known… I might have made something less… anyway, it's a ten-bean mix with salted pork belly. Have at it.”

    Ron was still clearly on the defensive as well. Harry had no idea how he felt about his old Potions professor sitting in his dining room, eating his food which was so similar in consistency to something they might have brewed in a class, but it didn't seem to be fueled by hearts and rainbows. Harry didn't know how to fix it.

    Sebastian's hand stole into his under the table, though above the table the man showed no signs of having moved at all. Harry sighed and tried to relax. He and Seb had each other's backs, and Ron and Hermione had _his_ back. They would figure out all the rest eventually.

    The meal was painfully quiet for a while, and if not for Seb's hand in his Harry might have thrown something by now, just to cause a reaction. As it was, Ron broke first.

    “So you came to speak to me about Ginny?” Ron said roughly, taking a drink of some amber liquid that had Harry turning horrified eyes to Hermione.

    ‘Apple juice,’ she mouthed, putting his mind at ease.

    While pretending he was still drinking wasn't quite what _he_ would have done, if it worked for Ron he wasn't going to argue.

    “I did,” Sebastian said slowly. “Truthfully, it was my intention to stay away from the wizarding world forever, but I was probably deluding both myself and Harry when I thought that would have to include you two as well.”

    “You may not have the choice anymore,” Ron said firmly. “Ginny is not rational. She is telling everyone who will listen to her in the holding cell you are alive, and bewitching Harry Potter. The Prophet was covered with the headlines this morning.”

    Harry gaped; he hadn't known. _Seb,_ that sneaky former spy, must have hid the newspaper to avoid upsetting him. Sebastian continued on, just as strong as Ron. “Nevertheless, what has brought me here ahead of a time of my _own_ choosing _is_ your sister, not the rest of Europe. Harry wants to seek sessions with a Mind Healer for her — instead of time at Azkaban — and I need more information before I can agree with him.”

    Now it was Ron and Hermione's turn to be shocked, and Seb squeezed Harry's hand three times in what he knew must be smug celebration.

    “What do you want to know?” Hermione was the first to recover, hope for her dear friend shining through her eyes.

    “I need to understand her mental state. Without care, how likely is she to understand the terrors she visited on Harry and myself?”

    Hermione turned to Ron, whose mouth had turned down as he thought of his answer. “So far she has not understood when I've brought it up. I visited her a few times today… she's my baby sister. But when I tell her how badly she scared you, she can only say _'If I could speak to him, I know he'll understand.’_ She doesn't sound or appear crazy, but she is not seeing consequences right now, only illogical hope.”

    Sebastian nodded, hand tightening. Harry could tell it was not what he wanted to hear: a point in therapy's favor. “And if she is sent to Azkaban, do you think she would see a Mind Healer on her own, afterwards?”

    “I don't think so. She has refused to see the one who stops in on request already. And she's not _crazy_ , just extremely… delusional. About her role in Harry's life.”

    “In the war, while Harry ran off with us,” Hermione cut in softly, “— she waited on a hope and a prayer that Harry would return. In hiding, just… waiting for the Patronus that would tell her it was time to fight in the last, big one by his side. I think, when everything started to go wrong, she started waiting again. Waiting, and hiding her pain with the man from work, and even after being caught and kicked out, she still hasn't stopped. She still is waiting for her chance to fight all this off for you.”

    “I don't want that,” Harry said desperately. “Things weren't right between us even before my issues became really bad. I don't want her to fight for me, I just want Seb!”

    Sebastian's hand squeezed his and his thumb stroked the back of his hand in the same slow 4-second pattern as his breathing exercises, and Harry choked back anything else he might have added in his sudden fit of anxiety.

    “So, if she were to go to Azkaban, under the care of the Dementors and reliving losing her ‘true love’ over and over again, she would undoubtedly seek him out again upon her release?”

    “Yeah,” Ron said roughly. “Sorry, mate. I just didn't see the signs. The day the person was in your apartment… that was her even then. Used an unfinished, experimental spell from another team to mask the spot she Disapparated from. That was only a few weeks after she convinced us you needed her help to get better.”

    “I feel so violated,” Harry whispered, shuddering.

    “What is the punishment to be handed down to her from her superiors?” Sebastian asked, voice hard as he held Harry's hand in both of his, no longer hiding the contact from the others.

    “Complete Obliviation of her time working for the Department. She's been there for the past three years, so they'll have to bring in a memory expert from the Department of Mysteries to handle it. We think… we don't think she'll ever be the same, after. Depending on how precise the guy can be… she may not remember the Harry of the last three years at all.”

    “And then the choice becomes: sending an addled witch to Azkaban for a crime she cannot remember and we would still be in danger due to her potentially surviving obsession, or send her to a Mind Healer to be made fully aware of the depth of her forgotten crime… there's not really a decision there after all. I will support seeking mandatory Mind Healer sessions instead of prison time.”

    Ron covered his face briefly. Hermione was beaming, and Harry clutched at Sebastian's hands that were already holding onto his, full of pride for the decision his fiance had just made, one that went against his gut instinct and decades of neglect as far as justice went.

    “I don't like the way you said it, or even _why_ , but I thank you all the same,” Ron said, somewhat shakily. “I just want my sister back.”

    While dinner didn't exactly go _smoothly_ after that, at least they'd gotten that discussion out of the way. Hermione asked detailed questions above Harry and Ron's understanding about how Seb had survived, which he answered, and seemed to enjoy the intelligent discourse. Harry knew that Seb was with him for many things, but he was under no illusion that his only slightly-above-average intellect was one of them. Still, the more he appeared to enjoy talking, the gentler and more loving the thumb caressing his fingers became, and Harry knew he was still the other man's top priority anyway.

    Once, when talk turned to their separate experiences in the war, Sebastian ended up shocking Harry's friends by knowing _exactly_ how suspicious they'd been of him at every juncture in school.

    “You told him all that?”

    “I was open with him from the beginning. If he doesn't know something it's probably just because I forgot to tell him along with everything else.”

    Three pulses around his hand, and a glint in his love's currently-blue eyes, and Harry knew he'd done well, even back then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we have it. Ginny's motivations. Have you ever had a friend who hurt you so badly and just could not understand how they might be in the wrong? Could not empathize with *you* because that would mean they'd done something bad? I come across this IRL so often, but in books it seems nearly every antagonist knows they're acting evilly and revel in it. I wanted to explore a terror brought about by someone who is seriously unaware the whole time they've done anything to be concerned or ashamed of.
> 
> I did not go for a firefight for this very reason. She is the protagonist of her own story, and true protagonists should not seek to harm unprovoked. (But clearly she is not a very good true protagonist, is she...)
> 
> Two chapters left now, and Harry and Seb-verus still have a lot of ground to cover before they will be a cohesive partnership again. See you then! :)


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Sebastian take things a step too far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that I did not keep up the every-two-days streak I was on. My personal life has been a little rocky... forever, but especially this past week I was feeling it.

# Chapter Twenty-Seven

    Later, back at home, Harry and Seb sat at their normal places at the table, holding hands and waiting for the potion to wear off. In front of Harry sat a warm cup of chamomile tea, which he sipped regularly to keep it's calming benefits strong, ready for Seb's transition. They talked about how they both thought the dinner with Ron and Hermione had gone, and when Sebastian's skin started to bubble, Harry cradled his hand instead of gripping it, so as to not add more pain to the change.

    “I'm still me,” Seb said, voice soft but black eyes intense. “I have been by your side all evening — all week. Nearly two weeks ago, in Paris, you got down on your knees before me and asked me to pledge my life to you. I am yours, my Harry.”

    Harry’s eyes stung, and he turned their hands over to inspect their connected shape from all sides. “The feeling is definitely less, I think. May I kiss you?”

    Sebastian stood, offering a hand to him, and Harry rose cautiously into his embrace.

    “Close your eyes,” Seb said kindly. Harry obeyed, and felt the other man dip his head by his ear. “It is me. I’m still in here. I love you.” He let their lips meet, then, and Harry felt butterflies and confusion and desire and guilt. Cautiously, he tilted his head, feeling a sharp stab of  _need_ as Seb-as-Snape's tongue slid against his own for the first time.

    “I still feel like I’m doing something that will hurt you,” Harry said into the other man’s mouth, “but I still want you. I think I want you more right now than earlier in the garage. I want this mouth —” Harry broke off to prove his point, plucking at Seb’s thinner lips with his own, pressing his hands into the man's lower back to bring their bodies flush together so his growing length could be felt.

    “Harry,” Seb groaned. “It will be painful to stop if you talk to me this way.” His hand speared into Harry’s wild mop of hair and he angled their faces to deepen the kiss even further.

    “This definitely feels like cheating,” Harry gasped, but pulled Sebastian's upper body closer as well. “It’s not, it’s not, it’s not,” he chanted as his lover suckled on his neck.

    “We should really stop,” Seb said, struggling to get himself back under control and pushing Harry's shoulders away. “Not until you are ready for this.”

    “Stop talking about stopping,” Harry complained, leaning forward futilely as Sebastian held him back. “You’re making me feel like a rapist. Seb, I want _you_. In this body.”

    “How can that be?” he asked, black eyes bewildered as he let Harry close again. Harry instantly attacked his neck, determined to prove his ardor for the body in front of him.

    “I do, I want you. I want you… inside. Can we do that?”

    Sebastian cursed and gripped him tightly, ravishing his mouth with that differently shaped mouth that set Harry's blood _aflame_. “My sinful little Harry,” he growled approvingly. “I would absolutely _love_ to… but not tonight. Not this desperate, not this unsure.”

    “Okay,” Harry pouted, then bit his lip nervously as he thought of another tactic to try. “Then can you fuck me the way you normally do… with that big fat cock next to mine?”

    Sebastian cursed again, and Harry grinned widely at having broken right through his love’s typically-prim vocabulary. The feeling of being Apparated followed directly after, and they stumbled as the back of Harry’s knees hit the bed.

    “Clothes,” demanded Seb, and somehow Harry’s smile managed to still grow, muscles burning in his cheeks at the effort. Usually _he_ was the more demanding, pushy one in bed and he was enjoying this wanton version of his lover. Seeing the face of Severus Snape driven to distraction by lust was absolutely delicious. Harry undressed in record time and began helping Seb get through his millions of buttons and fastenings also, though sometimes his mouth or tongue got in the way as more skin was revealed.

    “Never seen you like this,” Sebastian gasped, as Harry shoved aside his pants to reveal his girthy prize.

    “You either,” Harry retorted, before falling to his knees and taking the older man into his mouth before he could protest.

    Sebastian cursed _again_ and Harry suckled lightly, figuring out this whole giving-head situation. He’d read in his book that it was like sucking on a lollipop, or a popsicle, but Harry found himself disagreeing once his mouth was around the thing. For one, he was painfully aware of the size of his own teeth, and secondly, the head he was currently licking and slurping on tasted like salty flesh, not like candy at all.

    He carefully pressed forward, curling his lips around his teeth protectively and trying to figure out how to get a good seal and suck again with his mouth open so wide. He rather liked the weight and flavor of the skin on his tongue, and liked it even more when Sebastian called his name as if he was praising a deity.

    He looked up, and when their eyes met Harry remembered that was exactly what Seb had wanted — for him to look up, knowing exactly who he was servicing. He tried to smile up at the man, but ended up drooling out the side of his mouth instead, then pulled back laughing at himself.

    “I’m not very good at his,” he chortled, wiping his face and using his spit to pump Seb’s length with his hand instead.

    “You are amazing,” Sebastian disagreed, threading his hands through Harry’s hair and cupping his face reverently.

    Harry bent his head back to his task, remembering how Seb had absolutely blown his mind last week and trying to create the same sensations for his lover. The man pumped his hips a little, and Harry frowned a bit as he tried to compensate for the movement without unveiling his teeth. After a moment, he placed a hand on Seb’s hip to stop him, and went back to suckling on him in the safer way he felt he could handle.

    “Bed, my Harry,” the man gasped at last. “I am having trouble holding back and I don’t want to hurt you.”

    Harry gave one last strong suck on his head, flicking his tongue over the slit in the middle and carefully tasting the bitter flood of pre-come that he pulled out as he did so. He let go with a very purposeful ‘pop,’ and stood, backing back up to the bed and taking himself in hand as he challenged Sebastian with a look to come get him.

    His fiance rose to the occasion, batting his hand out of the way and crushing their bodies together, letting them fall back onto the bed with a bouncing crash. They scrambled together backwards — Seb’s arm hauling him up by the waist — so their entire bodies could lay out, and devoured each other’s mouths as they wrapped around each other again.

    “Is it weird to kiss me after?” Harry asked as Sebastian took a moment to mouth at his neck and wordlessly summon the lube.

    “If I had come in your beautiful mouth I might be hesitant,” he admitted, lazily working lube onto Harry’s neglected erection, “but now, I am filled with fire. I hope you are ready, my heart.”

    “I wanna wrestle, come here,” Harry panted, squirming as the talented hand didn’t relent.

    “Your wish…” Seb purred. Harry wrapped his legs around his love firmly and they grappled against each other much in the same way they had the last time they’d done this without his potion. Only this time, Harry’s eyes were open and even though there was a pervading sense of ‘wrong, wrong, wrong,’ he stared right back at those glittering, dark orbs and pressed hot, passionate kisses across his face as they shoved each other closer to completion.

    “Too close,” Sebastian gasped first, fingers digging deep into Harry’s side as he pulled the smaller man harder up into himself.

    “Go,” commanded Harry greedily. “Let me see this face come.”

    He couldn’t say Seb made a _beautiful_ ‘oh’ face, but as he groaned and his eyes shut and his brows pulled together in agony it was the _hottest_ thing Harry had ever seen. Even hotter than when he came disguised as Marco, whose face admittedly _was_ more handsome. The sight itself, along with the feeling of Sebastian’s come slicking their movements further, drove Harry right over the edge of his own climax, so intense his vision whited out around the edges.

    But then, as they collapsed together and the arousal-free moments following orgasm kicked in, Harry was _swallowed_ in guilt.

    “Oh, Merlin,” he sobbed. “Don’t leave me, Seb. I’m so sorry, don’t leave me.”

    “It’s okay, Harry,” Sebastian urged. “Here, keep your eyes closed and listen to my voice. It’s okay. It is me. It was me all along. I love you, you didn’t do anything wrong. _Listen to me._ You didn’t do anything wrong.”

    Harry covered his face, unable to accept the comfort at the moment. “It felt like cheating the whole time but I wanted you so much I did it anyway. Is this how it is? Is this how it is to be a cheater?”

    “You’re not, my love. You would never. You only let yourself go because you _knew_ it was me. I am not upset with you, my Harry. I am entranced by your attraction to my real self. I do not want you to beat yourself up over something that makes me quite happy.”

    “I _am_ more attracted to you, like this. Doesn't that make it worse? Aren't I supposed to be equally attracted to you no matter what you look like?”

    “Yeah… I _really_ don't mind,” Sebastian replied drily. “Don't forget, that other face belongs to our neighbor. Don't dislike yourself, sweetheart. Not for something that fills me with so much worth, and hope.”

    “I don't think I've ever heard you say ‘yeah’ before,” Harry said, mouth still pouting unsteadily.

    “You have sucked the culture right out of me,” Seb replied teasingly, nipping at his sweaty neck.

    “I enjoyed that,” Harry confessed timidly, feeling a frisson of fear as he confessed to enjoying the experience that brought him guilt, after.

    “I could tell. No hesitation at all, you went right for me. Oh, we shouldn't talk about this — I am becoming interested again.”

    Harry wasn't. Even with 'Seb-as-Snape's’ naked body plastered to his with spunk and sweat, he felt as shriveled down there as he could ever remember. “I…” He brought his hands back up to his face, and Seb intercepted the movement and moved them to the side.

    “It is okay. I understand. Your desire to be faithful to me is a prize — it is _only_ joy to me. _I_ am sorry that adhering to my fears has made this so hard on you.”

    “I love you,” Harry said wetly.

    “And I, you,” Sebastian replied, pressing a warm kiss to his forehead. “You stay here, I will come back to wash you properly. No — stay down, I want to take care of you. Let me.”

    Harry settled back, stomach churning in disgust at himself. His shame went two ways, upset at continuing past the point he'd felt was adultery, _and_ for feeling like it was infidelity at all. He felt terrible, like he should be grovelling at Sebastian's feet, instead of the other man serving him.

    When Sebastian returned, he had a warm washcloth and his flask in his hands. “Watch me, Harry,” he urged, before taking a single, small swallow. As his body boiled, he set the flask down and bent over Harry on the bed.

    “You have nothing to fear,” the more familiar of Seb's faces soothed as he wiped the mess from Harry's lower stomach. “You made me feel good, and wanted. I greatly enjoyed your gift to me. You did nothing wrong, do you understand?”

    “Logically yes,” Harry whispered, “but I don't think we're dealing with logic here, only instinct. There's two voices... one thinks it's ridiculous that this is so hard for me, and the other one is screaming at me to not betray you.”

    “You haven't betrayed me,” Sebastian refuted, voice filled with endless patience. “You are _only_ mine, and being with me while I've taken the potion _and_ in my natural skin makes no difference to that. You need to self-soothe the part of you that wants to punish yourself for having a difficult time. It will take the time it takes, and I do not want you to push yourself harder than you need to and end up feeling guilty as you are now.”

    Sebastian Banished the rag to the bathroom and Harry heard it land with a plop in the tub. He held his hands up to the other man, face pouting again. “Will you hold me?”

    “Of course.”

 

 

    They stayed awake for Harry to watch Sebastian transition back to his natural self again. He felt like it got easier for his brain to comprehend what was happening each time he saw the transformation. Still, he was scraped raw on the inside from his reaction to what they did earlier and only gave Seb a kiss on the cheek before settling down for bed.

    That night, they both slept deeply for the first time since the spell flashes had started. When he woke Harry could tell that his dreams had not been pleasant, but they slipped away before he could analyze them too closely. He was wakened by Sebastian as he tried to extricate himself and sneak away, but Harry pulled him back to himself with a grunt of dissatisfaction.

    “No,” he murmured, blinking at his black-haired love. “Don't hide. Let me wake up next to you like this.”

    “Alright, Sebastian replied mildly, “but I need to use the facilities.”

    “No hiding the Prophet,” Harry said, letting him go and clinging to his pillow, instead.

    “... You caught me.”

    “Yep.”

    After hearing the loo flush, Sebastian returned to him, and he traded the pillow for his warm bodied lover eagerly.

    “I feel okay this morning,” Harry said positively, squeezing him close.

    “We're not going to push it again,” Sebastian warned.

    “No, I know,” Harry replied, rather meekly. “But this is nice, right? Maybe we broke through a major barrier last night. Maybe it will get easier soon.”

    “ _Still_ not going to push it. You're poking me in my thigh, that's all the evidence I need to know you're not in your right mind.”

    “That's not my fault. You're doing some poking of your own too, you know.”

    Sebastian groaned. “ _That_ is because you have turned me into a voluptuary.”

    “I don't know what that means, but if it has anything to do with an addiction to having sex with you, then I am right there too. Wanna take your potion and get frisky with me?”

    “This is a bad idea.” But he summoned the potion and the lube anyway.

 

 

    “Good morning, Harry. Oh, who is this?”

    “Healer Matilda, this is Sebastian Prince. Sebastian, this is my Mind Healer.”

    They exchanged platitudes, then Matilda followed hers up with: “This is quite a surprise. I had heard from Harry that you were quite the private person, and not interested in coming in.”

    Sebastian glanced at Harry for a moment before answering. He had only taken a small sip of the potion that morning and didn't take more after they observed their new transformation ritual. This was his first time back in the Wizarding world with his real face, and though it was only to see the Healer whose vows assured her secrecy Harry could still tell he was uncomfortable.

    “That is still true,” he said finally, “but as you might have seen in the paper, we've had an interesting week culminating in an attack a few days ago that left Harry quite emotionally vulnerable. During it, he had an episode that he may not be able to fully describe himself... but it was traumatising enough that he has had nightmares every night since. I am here as his support and as a second set of eyes from the episode.”

    “I thought you came so we could work through our _private_ issue,” Harry whispered hotly. “I'm not an idiot, I can talk about dissociating!”

    “This is more immediate; I do not want to see you suffer through another night,” Sebastian argued back. “One thing at a time, Harry.”

    Matilda watched them with open curiosity as she poured their tea. “There's no reason we cannot work through more than one issue today,” she pacified. “Though, as serious and as _frightening_ dissociating can be, if that's what really happened I _do_ think we should work on that first. If there is time after, we can begin resolving the… _private_ matter.”

    “It’s difficult to talk about,” Harry said, lowering his eyes. Sebastian’s hand covered his, and he met his gaze, before turning to Matilda, who was looking at their interaction with a thoughtful expression.

    “If you would like for Sebastian to share his perspective of the event first, we can begin there,” Matilda said gently.

    “No, I can do it. I’m guessing that’s why you didn’t wear your disguise?” Harry asked as an aside to Seb. He nodded his head regally, and Harry turned back to Matilda.

    “For a few days we were being targeted by an unknown person who cast spells that flew straight through walls at our faces before fizzling out just inches away.”

    Matilda’s eyes widened as she wrote in her journal, but she stayed quiet, listening closely. “On Friday, we came home and — I guess I should tell you now that Seb has been using Polyjuice to disguise himself this whole time and he told me during that first time over for tea — but when we came home his entire supply had been altered, unusable. I tried to Disapparate, but there was a Jinx up. I tried the doors, but they were locked, impenetrable.”

    “Oh, my,” breathed Matilda. “That is terrifying. Please, continue.”

    “I was desperate to leave,” Harry admitted. “As you showed me... losing Sebastian is my biggest fear right now. I knew he wasn’t ready to be revealed to me, and I felt trapped, unable to save him from _me._ ” Sebastian’s hand squeezed his tightly, and Harry took a deep breath and continued. “He convinced me there was nothing to do but wait it out, play their game. When he transformed back… he was my dead many-times-life-saving Potions Professor. As soon as I realized who he was… it was like my brain took a vacation. I…” He looked to Seb, leaving their hand-holding in order to cling to his arm, reassuring himself that his stong-featured fiance was still alive, still concerned for him.

    “Even though the most important thing in my life was happening right in front of me, I looked away, not caring, and noticed my hand. But it didn’t feel like my hand. It didn’t feel real at all. That’s when my thoughts started going farther… nothing was real, no one was real, nothing mattered. Seb brought me back down from it… I don’t know how. All I knew was he was talking to me and reality started filtering back in… I was me again.”

    “That does sound like classic, textbook dissociation,” Matilda said softly. “It’s rare that such a strong case of it would also be so short. Sometimes episodes that strength can last for days.”

    Harry shuddered, hugging Sebastian’s arm to himself. “Will it happen again?” he asked fearfully.

    “It is not one of your usual symptoms,” Matilda said slowly, “ _and_ it is a rare symptom itself. Typically someone who presents with this symptom _does_ have it occur randomly, on a recurring and unpredictable basis… but yours was in response to extreme provocation — a sight that only the unconscious brain can handle, in dreams, was made real in front of you. I do not think it _should_ happen again, though if it does you should keep an eye out for a general _receding_ feeling, like you are less in touch with your own body, or like you are observing yourself from a distance, or in an animated painting. Letting Sebastian or myself know before it takes over fully can help us take care of you during that time where you may not be able to feed or otherwise care for yourself.”

    Her voice was firm, but Harry was miserable. He never wanted to feel that way again. He didn’t want it to even be an option.

    “Isn’t there a potion to take to stop it?” he pleaded. Sebastian’s hand came to rest comfortingly over his on his forearm.

    “Dissociation is a rare entity in the wizarding world,” Matilda said regretfully. “There is not much research, and we are not about to start experimenting on sick Muggles.”

    “If it happens again, I will help you,” Sebastian vowed. “I will be right there, and if I can’t bring you back from it, then I will create something that will. I will not leave you alone.”

    “Thanks,” Harry muttered, resting his head on Seb’s shoulder for a brief moment. Matilda was watching their interaction curiously again.

    “I read the paper, though I kept the contents at an emotional distance as I did so,” she confessed. “I was concerned for Harry — about the intensely private man he loved turning out to be his dead hero, whom he clearly had grown to idolize after the war. Harry kept your secrets well; I never knew you were disguised from him, even if he truly knew from the beginning. But, despite being in front of a stranger now, you have treated him in my presence the same, kind way he has always said you do. As he is my client I am… _uncomfortable_ with the idea that you hid such a large part of yourself from him for so long — it is not a recipe for a healthy relationship — but I cannot deny that you both took things slowly enough to put back some of the power in Harry’s court, so to speak. I still have concerns as Harry’s Healer, but I am also encouraged by you two today. You have both been through a major trauma, yet here you are, in your real skin, and Harry is very obviously still relying on your comfort and love.”

    “It is a miracle,” Sebastian responded, no trace of sarcasm anywhere to be found. “I came back to ascertain his mental state, and stayed when he painted more interesting subject material than I was expecting. Then he became my friend, and I was stunned by how quickly I wanted more. Then he offered it… and I was even more astounded by the purity of his offer. From a previously straight-conforming man! I’m not sure what he’s said about myself, or how I treat him, but he is everything I thought I would never have, and I still have trouble believing he is with me, especially now.”

    “It is a beautiful tale of coming together for both of you, that is for certain,” Matilda said, smiling. “Now, I believe it would be a good idea to explore this memory in person, Harry. Are you up for some Pensieve work?”

    Harry sighed, but straightened up, and nodded. To his surprise, Seb was the one who held his wand to his temple this time, and looking into his lover's eyes he pulled up the memory and let Sebastian tug it free. Once it was deposited, Healer Matilda came around and cast her Healing spell, then all three tapped their wands to the jittering silver mess that was this memory.

 

 

    In the end, there was no time to discuss Harry's difficulty assimilating Sebastian and Severus together in his head. Though, before leaving, Seb politely enquired about the possibility of using a Pensieve at home to reconcile Harry's memories of the two of them together, while he was undisguised.

    “So, reliving your teas and dates, telling him what you were thinking and what you were hiding along the way? That might be a good way to hand some of the lost power back to Harry,” Matilda mused. “Don't use any unsanctioned healing spells going in, though. You don't want to lock in the wrong emotional response.”

    “Purely exploration,” Sebastian confirmed.

    “Well, if you have access to a Pensieve, and are both consenting, it's seems like the most unique date night I've ever heard of. I say go for it. If you would like, you could join us again next week, and we can talk about your discoveries. Sound good?”

    “I will think about it,” Sebastian said stiffly.

    Harry took a supportive hold of his hand, and smiled more warmly at Matilda. “Thank you,” he said. “I feel more tied to reality — to myself, than ever.”

    “You always were, I just helped your brain heal while you knew it,” she corrected.

    “Bye!”

    Sebastian Apparated them into their living room, and Harry wrapped a warm hug around him. “Thanks for coming,” he said, trying to inject his hug with lots of warmth.

    “I do not feel like I was needed,” Sebastian said wryly. “I thought I would come in, the gallant hero offering outside perspective to your dissociation, but you had the Pensieve the whole time.”

    “I always need you,” Harry said, “and I like what she said about how you treat me and the steps you've taken to keep our relationship on even footing.”

    “We should visit some stores today, if you would like to go on that ‘date’ where I tell you everything I was thinking at the time.”

    “I would! Maybe... later, though? I feel kind of Pensieved-out at the moment. Strained.”

    “Understandable. That was a rough one to go through... I've never seen such an unsettled memory. Maybe instead we can look through the books I mentioned the other day and see if there is a certain style you might like to try out on your easel.”

    “I would love that. Can you stay in this form so I can visually _see_ you being an amazing artist with this face? I think it will help. It was the first thing that turned my head about you, you know.”

    “Truly? I thought your interest started when you started questioning your sexuality, and I was... there.”

    Harry leaned back to give him Severus Snape's patented _‘are you feeble minded?’_ stare. “Why on Earth do you think I was questioning my sexuality, you crazy man? You weren't _incidental,_ you were one-hundred percent the root cause. Merlin, the first time you used _The Voice_ on me, there was no going back to poor, sad, straight Harry.”

    “Can I show you something?” Sebastian asked suddenly.

    “Sure,” Harry said, and pulled back to allow Sebastian room to move wherever he needed to. Surprisingly, he was led to Sebastian's art storage room, where the man reached behind a large blank canvas to fetch a painting he'd hid well out of sight. He handed it to Harry, who flipped it over and caught his breath at the subject matter.

    It was him. It was him, blurred around the glinting edges of the portrait as if viewed through gold-rimmed spectacles. There was an awed look in Harry's eyes, as if he was listening to someone explain something amazing. If it had been Seb talking, no doubt it had been. At the bottom, titled much in the same way Harry's 'Hope’ painting had been, was written in Seb's precise hand: 'Greed.’

    “The portrait you took home,” Harry said wonderingly. “I thought you were edgy about it. But that was before…”

    “I had no intention of staying, once I'd provided you an outlet. I heard you started sessions with a Mind Healer the very same week that the class started. There was no need for me to stay and insure your wellbeing any longer. But then the media found out where you were and you immediately came back under a glamour, and the contents of your art began to change — began to become more free.

    "You looked at me with that wide-eyed expression of respect and interest when I taught you about paint, and I couldn't leave. No one's looked at me that way before — not even _generations_ of students at Hogwarts. After becoming your friend... I think it was the second time you had me over at your place where I realized I wanted so much more. Huddled in the dark, eating those nutritionless stomach-fillers, laughing and just enjoying the experience the way I've never done with anyone before.”

    “When did you realize you loved me?” Harry asked, realizing that _he_ was the greedy one now.

    “When we went out to celebrate you getting your job,” Sebastian said with a smile. “Watching you talk so passionately about teaching and saving children… I knew right then. I made plans to have you meet Marco soon after. I couldn't wait any longer. How about you? When was it for you?”

    “I'm not sure there was an exact _moment_ for me,” Harry mused. “My feelings just grew and grew until the thought of you not being around anymore sent me into a panic. I loved you long before the first time I told you… but I don't know exactly when it started. The better question is when I knew you were ‘The One’ for me. That's when I gave Ginny's stuff back and she told me I ‘should have stayed dead.’ When she said that... all I could think of was how you — the you that you are now, anyway — would _never_ say something so cruel.

    "It kinda clicked for me then, you were everything I ever wanted, ever will want. It wasn't until that first explosive kiss happened that I realized I was done hiding that knowledge inside. I suddenly felt like I had already waited too long to commit to you, and I set out to prove to you I was absolutely serious in my intentions to be with you forever. I love you, Seb.”

    “You too.” They kissed, softly, not wanting to push Harry too far while he was in his natural form — but all Harry felt was warmth and love.

 

 

    Later Harry snuggled into Seb's side as they flipped through a book of close-up photos of impressionist art. He liked the dreamy pastel works of Monet, but didn't think he'd be able to pull off the same kind of purposeful impreciseness. He _really_ liked the book on expressionism. He liked the crazy free-for-all the painters seemed to use when assembling colors, shapes, and subjects together on one plane.

    “This definitely seems more my skill level,” he told Seb with a smile.

    “Don't get too cocky,” Sebastian warned, but Harry just loved hearing him say ‘cocky,’ and grinned. “These artists still knew exactly what they were doing with every stroke of their brush. Here, look at these by Edvard Munch.”

    Harry blanched. “They're almost as complicated as Monet's,” he complained.

    “Don't _whine._ Art takes practice. Years of it. You won't be making things like ‘The Sick Child’ overnight. Start slowly. Work on technique. If you want to and work hard… you will get there.”

    “Okay,” Harry said softly, running a finger over the picture in Seb's book. Despite the figures not showing much by way of expression, there was still a clear feeling of devastation between them.

    “I have fallen behind with my own painting. Do you mind if I take the afternoon to get some work done?”

    “Oh! Of course. I'm sorry, I haven't been thinking about your work at _all_ these past few days… I should contact Madame Droope as well. I know they're looking over my proposal and working on the legislation, but I'd still feel better taking to her after the stuff they've been slinging in the Prophet.”

    With a parting smooch, they both set themselves to their tasks, though Sebastian helpfully chimed in when Harry asked for guidance.

‘Dear Madame Droope,

    ‘I just wanted to send a missage checking in. I hope my proposal is treating you well, and that certain farcical reports in the papers have not damaged my place in your esteem.

‘Regards,

‘Harry Potter’

    “I think she'll know that I didn't write this by myself,” Harry said doubtfully.

    “It says what you need it to,” Sebastian said idly, distracted by his canvas. “ _You_ asked for help.”

    “True,” Harry replied with a sigh. He sent Prince off with the letter, then went to fetch his own art satchel from the front closet. “Prepare yourself, highly experimental painter coming your way.”

    Seb smiled at him, made sure his easel was set properly while Harry fetched a blank canvas, and then they sat companionably beside each other for some time while Harry struggled to make what was in his head come out under his brush. Every so often Sebastian would reach over, wrap his hand around Harry's and help him perfectly set down the stroke of color that he'd been struggling vainly to accomplish.

    “It's like my brain doesn't reach down to my hands,” Harry groused. “I know exactly what I _want_ it to look like, but it doesn't come out that way. I wish I could just Levitate the paintbrush and _make_ it do what I wanted it to.”

    “Then do so,” Sebastian said mildly. “It can be your unique signature. You'll never know if you don't try these things that pop into your head. This is what creating art is.”

    Harry scratched his head in thought, bringing out his wand and looking at the two lengths of wood in his hands. Finally, with a shrug, he cast ' _wingardium leviosa,'_ and carefully directed the wet end of the paintbrush to the canvas.

    The first twitching stroke was a dreadful failure. Sebastian laughed.

    “Hey!”

    “It would take a lot of practice, my love,” Seb said humorously. “Try not to control the brush so much as send your _intent_ through the spell. Start with lines, circles, basic shapes. I don’t think anyone has done it this way; I am curious to see you progress.”

    Harry wasn’t _quite_ mollified, but he set himself to the task anyway. The rest of his painting hadn’t gone the way he wanted anyway, so he tried his best to avoid the areas that Seb had made look good and set himself to filling the rest of the canvas with the simple geometric shapes Sebastian had suggested.

    By the time Prince returned with a reply from the Ministry, Harry felt like he’d relaxed into the process some. He could at least Levitate the brush as well as he painted by hand, and it had taken him close to a year of art therapy to get _that_ average. He was hopeful that with more practice he could get the brush to follow the lines his brain supplied.

‘Mr Potter,

    ‘I am relieved to hear from you, even with such a formal form of address. We are in the final stages of penning the legislation — it is, so far, an eleven-foot document. If you would like to be present when we present it to the Wizengamot we would love to have such an influential pillar of support by our sides. You will be pleased to know we have procured all four spaces we have previously discussed, and if you would like to visit them and begin setting up your class space in anticipation of our own proposal passing then please feel free to do so. Having an established and professional space already set up will no doubt push things in our favor.

    ‘I have been in continuing contact with our Miss Granger, so have no doubts that I have all continued respect and support for you as our chosen teacher. The lies and hysterical guessing games in the Prophet will out themselves in time, and you do not need to worry about your place in the Muggleborn Assistance Division. I wish you all luck with the upcoming trial.

‘Sincerely,

‘Madame Margot Droope’

    Harry sighed in relief, and with a smile to Sebastian he dedicated himself back to his painting. Feeling lighter, he thought that it didn’t look so terrible after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess I forgot to mention this anywhere, but in this universe the Dark Mark faded completely with Voldemort's death. I'm not sure if J.K. Rowling had made mention of what happens after his final defeat, but since the Mark had faded while he was a weak shade and grew darker when he grew in strength, and then blazed back to life when he returned back to full power, I always thought it was extremely logical for it to completely disappear if he did. So when Harry was nakey with Seb-as-Marco or Seb-as-Snape, it wasn't there to be seen or commented on.
> 
> One more chapter and then I can post the first epilogue-shot! Exciting for me; I had some fun with them :)


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Sebastian let go of their inhibitions and reveal all, in different ways.

# Chapter Twenty-Eight

    That night, Harry made sneaky little plans for the coming morning. Spending his day with Seb-as-Snape — side by side while his brain was actively being healed at counselling, the emotional portrait reveal, and then painting in warm companionship — went a long way to healing the Seb-Snape divide. He knew they were the same, but he also _felt_ it, in that instinctive place that did not deal in facts. He had been figuratively hounded by the ghost of a Dementor since the reveal, but right then, climbing up the stairs to the bedroom, he was _happy._  With himself, with Seb, and with life itself after their calm, companionable day.

    As they completed their nightly chores Harry didn’t make any romantic overtures, but while Sebastian was brushing his teeth Harry snuck back out into the bedroom and hid the pot of lube on his side of the bed instead. Thankfully, they had another restful night and when Sebastian tried to sneak out of his arms again in the morning Harry cleared his throat to garner his attention, and then struck him with a meaningful look beneath his lashes.

    “Come back to me, after,” he ordered sleepily. He giddily thought the other man’s footsteps hastened after that.

    He wasn’t surprised when his lover returned already having taken his potion; there was a flask in every room of the house these days.

    “My, my… whyever should my love be beckoning me back to bed at this hour,” Sebastian purred at him as he peeled back the covers. Harry had already shucked his boxers and hidden the pot of lube on his stomach.

    Sebastian looked at him quizzically after seeing it sitting there. “I thought… maybe this morning… you might like to try…” Despite his grand plans and his wildness the _last_ time he'd come on so strongly to Seb, Harry then blushed and pointed down, below the globes of his testes.

    “Are you sure?” Seb looked positively _delighted_  at the idea, but held himself back for Harry’s answer.

    “Yeah,” Harry answered with a small smile. “I am happy and I love you. I want to try this out.”

    “I need to perform a spell before we begin, to ensure our health, during. It will feel a little strange, are you okay with this?”

    “I trust you,” Harry said, spreading his arms wide for the spell to land wherever. However, Sebastian’s wand didn’t point at his chest, its tip laid gently on his lower stomach, dangerously close to his half-filled member.

“ _Stercus mundo_ ," Seb cast, and instantly Harry felt his insides _deflate_ uncomfortably.

    “What… was that…?” Harry asked, though he thought he already might have an idea. Slight cramping in his belly had followed in the wake of the spell, but it was brief and already receding.

    “It has cleaned out any… undesirable substances,” Sebastian replied awkwardly.

    “Really?” Harry asked, perking up. “That was my biggest issue. The methods in my Muggle book were... so it’s just like a… clean hole down there, now?”

    Sebastian chuckled, taking off his own pants and climbing to lay down by Harry’s hips, scooping up the pot as he settled. “Shall I show you, my love?”

    “Yes,” Harry whispered.

    Sebastian liberally coated his fingers while placing light kisses to Harry’s length which was _definitely_ interested in the goings-on now. Those wide fingers found the puckered furl of muscle confidently as Seb moved on from light kisses to suckling on his tip much as Harry had done for him the other day. Harry moaned encouragement just before the first slick finger breached him, and he felt himself clamp down on it without meaning to.

    “Push, a bit, my Harry,” Seb encouraged before bending his head back to swallow him up again. Harry obeyed, and that finger unerringly slid in right to the spot that had unmade him the last time Sebastian had his fingers up his bum. The older man took his time, light suction on his cock that didn’t edge him onwards but still made the entire experience feel so pleasant, like floating on a cloud of pleasure.

    Harry had a harder time with the second finger, feeling that odd feeling like a particularly hard poop was going _in_ instead of _out_ the way it was supposed to, but then his prostate was massaged again and all he could focus on was _more._ More in, more pushing, more closeness, more Sebastian.

    “Seb,” he pleaded.

    “Almost there, my Harry. One more finger and I’ll be content that I wont hurt you for your first time.”

    Harry groaned, but laid there obediently as he was thoroughly stretched and when the third finger was added it was an even larger ache than the second.

    “Agh, maybe it was a good idea to go for three first,” Harry said, cringing, but then Sebastian hummed around his erection, and he was able to relax and get lost again.

    “I think it’s time, my Harry,” Sebastian said after a few moments, voice dark with need as he carefully withdrew his fingers.

    “Face to face?” Harry asked hopefully, rising up on his elbows to watch his lover revisit the pot of lube. Sebastian crawled over him as an answer, his freshly-shining hand running over his length as he came closer.

    “I love you, Harry,” Seb whispered against his lips. “Thank you for this.”

    “I love you too,” Harry said smiling. “I’m sincerely hoping to thank _you_ too, soon, maybe exuberantly. Come inside.”

    Sebastian pressed a tender kiss to his lips and lifted Harry’s legs up over his shoulders. He lined himself up, and gently pressed himself forward.

    “Oof,” Harry winced. The uncompromisingly round shape of Seb's glans was very different than the press of his fingers, which had folded around each other and sunk in one by one for maximum comfort.

    “Push against me, heart,” Sebastian said, voice tense. “You are so warm, and perfect.”

    Harry pushed, though he couldn’t see how trying to push Seb _out_ could be any kind of help at all. The intense inward pressure _did_ seem to lessen though, and Seb carefully rocked back and forth until he was seated fully against him.

    “How are you feeling,” Seb asked, bending him in two in order to press a kiss to his mouth before backing off more comfortably again.

    “It’s… different,” Harry replied neutrally.

    Sebastian laughed, which created interesting sensations down below as his pelvic muscles contracted too. “Let me move a bit before you pass judgement.”

    And then he did, slow searching movements, changing the angle of his thrusts each time until he finally hit just the right angle to make Harry gasp out, “Oh!”

    “There it is,” he replied smugly. He stayed right there, pumping even, gentle strokes, and using his glossy hand to reach down and stroke Harry in exact time.

    “Yeah, wow, damn,” Harry spluttered. “Yep, I see it now.”

    Sebastian laughed again, getting slightly off the mark, before re-dedicating himself back to their shared pleasure. Harry slipped his legs off Sebastian’s shoulders and cradled his testicles out of the danger zone while pulling Sebastian back down for a more comfortable kiss, helping the hand on his length as the older man found the right angle again.

    Suddenly, amidst the haze of pleasure, Sebastian’s skin crawled beneath Harry’s fingers and mouth. “How much potion did you take?” he gasped.

    “Just the normal sip, which is apparently not enough.”

    “Ow, _ow,_ hang on — don’t move!”

    Sebastian froze, though Harry could tell it was difficult for him by the immediate tightening of his jaw. “What’s wrong?”

    “You’re so much bigger than Marco,” Harry complained.

    “... Please don’t ever say that again.” Sebastian’s 'Potions Master' face was very effective at displaying disgust.

    “Will you get out of your own head for a minute and think about me — just hold on a second, that fucking hurt.”

    “Grumpy,” Seb teased, nipping Harry’s neck and shoulder. The besieged young man tilted his head to the side to let him have more access, and the small bites became warm, open mouthed kisses and slow, sucking smooches that warmed Harry’s insides until he wantonly began pushing back on the increased intrusion.

    "Ready, my love?” the older man purred across his ear, pressing the wider head of his cock against Harry’s prostate as he did.

    "Oh, god — need more lube — but then _yes…_ ”

    “And you are okay with this face?”

    “Love it, love you, lube up, old man.”

    Sebastian spluttered, but dragged a lube-coated finger around the base of his shaft anyway. “I’ll show you ‘ _old._ ’ _Honestly_ ,” he griped, but the strokes deep into Harry were absolutely perfect and Seb was dragged down for hungry, sloppy kisses that more than made up for the jest.

    “I won't last long,” Seb warned. “You are absolutely perfect around me like this.”

    “Harder, then,” Harry panted, gripping the hand around his own shaft tighter. “Take me with you.”

    Sebastian came, groaning helplessly into Harry’s mouth, and he swallowed up the cries hungrily as the hand on him held firmer, moved faster and he then he was coming too, throwing his head back and pulling Sebastian’s shuddering body deeper into his with shaking legs.

    “Fucking Hell,” he gasped as soon as the peak passed and the last lazy spurts of come dribbled over their hands.

    “Indeed,” Sebastian agreed, out of breath as well as he urged the last bit of come out of Harry’s shaft, squeezing from base to tip slowly to clear it out.

    “That was — whew.”

    “How do you feel,” Sebastian asked him uncertainty. “I should have taken more potion. We shouldn’t be pushing you like this.”

    “I feel… fine. A little bit of reassurance would help... but I don't feel the same ‘oh, Merlin, I’ve just cheated on Seb’ feeling. I really do think painting together helped significantly.”

    “The brain is a mystery,” Sebastian said, shaking his head. “I love you Harry. Thank you for this gift… giving yourself to me this way.”

    Sebastian summoned a rag, and held it below his shaft as he withdrew from Harry carefully. As soon as he slipped free fully he pressed the rag in, blocking the flow of come that wanted to follow him out.

    “Uh, what do I do?” Harry asked, taking his hand's place where it held the rag on.

    “Waddle to the toilet, I suppose,” Sebastian suggested, smirking. Harry rolled his eyes and awkwardly rolled, trying to get off the bed without getting either of their messes on Sebastian’s precious bedspread.

    “Very sympathetic, thank you,” he grumbled humorously, toddling into the bathroom with his hands between his legs. Sebastian’s laughter followed him as he trailed behind, to step into the shower and get cleaned up first. As Harry sat and removed the cloth, Sebastian's semen came drooling out of him into the bowl a little too easily, and Harry worried about whether he was going to have trouble for the rest of the day keeping important things _inside_ where they belonged.

    “Uh, Seb? Am I going to be loose like this all day?”

    “I’ve got a healing potion downstairs,” he called back. “If I’d known we’d be doing this I would have had it ready for you. It will help put you back to rights, and keep you from developing piles.”

    “Oh, good,” grouched Harry, stepping into the shower as well.

    “Do you regret it?” Sebastian inquired, pulling him close to his own soapy body with an uncertain look to his face.

    “Can’t, when it was so wonderful,” Harry confessed, laying his head on Seb’s slender, slippery shoulder with a happy sigh. “And when I'm already planning when we can do it again. I love you.”

    Sebastian’s arms came around him tighter. “I love you too, my Harry.”

 

 

    “Do you think we could connect the fireplace to the Floo?” Harry asked nervously as they toweled off. “It would make it easier to get to-and-from the different classrooms… and would remove the risk of landing on top of a poor child or their Muggle parents.”

    After a pause, Sebastian answered. “Yes, I suppose it is time. There is no putting the boggart back in the trunk, now.”

    “You don't have to do anything you don't want to do,” Harry said softly.

    Sebastian calmed him with a kiss to the forehead. “We are building a life _together_. I cannot demand you conform yourself to my hermit ways. I'll send in the request after breakfast.”

    “I'll request the Floo destinations from Madame Droope,” Harry said, beaming. “I'll be able to decorate my classrooms soon! I may have to borrow some of your creepy jars for the potions display.”

    “Be still, my heart,” Sebastian muttered in response to the tease.

    Later, with their bellies full and letters sent, they took their places side by side in front of their canvases again. After a while of working with the Levitation charm and feeling like he was doing even better than the day before, Sebastian had a surprising confession to give him.

    “I still use Legilimency.” Harry's paintbrush stuttered and he plucked it out of the air while his mind was too distracted to control it.

    “On… me? How often? Since when?”

    “I kept my mind searching at all times during my time as Headmaster,” he admitted softly. “A perfectly timed word was the difference between actual torture and merely  _unpleasant_ detentions for many students caught in the hands of the Carrows. After the elf brought me back, I kept up the habit to ensure that I could disappear thoroughly. With you… at _first_ , I wanted to catch you in a lie. But then you never lied. Then I saw when you were going to panic, and used it to calm you down. Then, it became… like a peek into your soul. I could see, a little amount of how you were responding to me, and I soaked in it, reveled in it. I use it all the time, on everyone, without thinking too much about it. With you, though, it is like looking into the sun.”

    “I don't know whether to be flattered or disturbed,” Harry said. “Maybe we can add that to our Pensieve dates. You can tell me when you saw something, so I know how vulnerable I really was at the time.”

    “We can,” Sebastian confirmed softly. “I always had the feeling… you wanted me to see what I did. You have always been so open around me, like you were trying to push your thoughts and feelings into my head, instead of me having to seek them out. I have never met so genuine a person.”

    “I guess I've never hidden anything,” Harry conceded. “Still, it would be nice to know exactly... what made it through.”

    “Absolutely.”

 

 

    On Wednesday Sebastian accompanied Harry to counselling again.

    "Good morning, Harry. Nice to see you again, Sebastian. I'm glad you came."

    "We haven't been able to procure a Pensieve yet," Seb said without preamble, before they'd even taken their seats.

    "Well, lucky for you both I have one right here, and I was going to suggest we use it today. It is not surprising that it's been difficult, they are rarely used by the average wizard. I can reach out to a few of my colleagues, if you'd like. I was provided with this one, myself; I do not know who made it."

    Harry tugged Sebastian over to their couch and sat, slightly embarrassed by the way the man had jumped right in before the typical getting-settled rituals had been observed. "We have greater need for one now," he said softly, darting a careful glance over to his partner.

    "Oh? And why is that?" Matilda asked lightly as she poured their tea.

    "I employ Legilimency often, using it as another sense," Sebastian revealed stiffly.

    Matilda put the teapot down with a clank. "That is a massive invasion of  _anyone's_ privacy."

    Harry flinched. She hadn't ever used that tone before — strident, harsh.

    "Possibly."

    " _Definitely!_ Where would one even begin learning such a dangerous art —"

    "I was taught by Albus Dumbledore in the Winter of early nineteen-eighty," Sebastian said precisely. "That was when I came to him to help in defeating the Dark Lord. Albus was an accomplished user of the Mind Arts himself, and taught me to use it the way he did, always searching, gleaning for information that might help aid the war effort. Well, he mostly used it to keep the students out of — or into — trouble."

    "So you are saying that Albus Dumbledore used  _Legilimency_ on  _children_?"

    "Frequently. Daily. What he taught me was that it was my choices that determined the morality of its use. If I used the information to glean someone's weakness and attack it, then I had used it Legilimency as an assault on that privacy," he said with a nod in her direction. "If I used it to help, to guide, to save, then I had used the skill for good."

    "And have you used it to harm, the way you described?"

    "In my past, as frequently as Albus used it to stir up mischief."

    "And more recently? With Harry?"

    Sebastian paused. Harry peered over at him and saw his discomfort, though he was holding his own well against the witch who had clearly not been impressed. "Harry and I had a fractious relationship while he was — was a student of mine. I definitely tried my best at that time to tap into his secrets and I did not always respond to them in a way that would have made Albus proud." Harry reached over to take his hand. This was a huge moment for the man, he could tell the past was weighing on him heavily in that moment. "When I met Harry again — and I have shared this with him, as well — I expected to fall back into that same pattern, but we had both changed enough that it just didn't fit the situations that arose, anymore. I always expected to catch him in a lie, in a fit of arrogance, or _manipulation_ or similar, but he remained... frustratingly pure in his words and intentions. He struggled a lot with his anxiety back then, but then on one particularly bad day there was a shift between us. Without even looking at him I felt the moment his thoughts derailed into panic, and I... followed the information to calm him down."

    "The first day you counted for me," Harry breathed, wonderingly. "I had thought a lot about that afterwards... how you knew to look at me right that moment, to reach out and force me to calm down before I'd even said anything."

    "Legilimency requires eye contact," Matilda said, frowning slightly. 

    "For direct access to the memories, yes," Seb agreed. "Though I never had the skill for it, the Dark Lord was able to tell truth from lie just by the words someone spoke, if they did not Occlude away their true intentions. That moment with Harry was the first time I had gleaned information — his feelings — just by standing nearby."

    "I gather from the lack of confusion in your voice you have a theory as to why that is."

    His thumb stroked across the back of Harry's hand then, and Harry brought his other one over to join the tangle of fingers. "He was painting me. I remember it very clearly, having gone over it so many times. He was standing next to me, talking to me about how I was the ' _most fitting_ ' representation of  _love_ he could think of, not realizing it was me, Severus Snape, he was speaking to the whole time. I was intensely curious to know more, and inquired about why it wasn't a portrait of Miss Weasley when the shift happened. I believe subconsciously he... reached out for support, like throwing out an arm to stop yourself from falling, at the same time my own mind was reaching for his, to figure out why he could possibly feel the way he felt about me."

    "Accidental magic."

    "Yes. That's my theory. After that moment, knowing when Harry needed something from me was as simple as hearing him ask out loud."

    "Harry, you've heard everything Sebastian has said so far, how do  _you_ feel about this? About his use of Legilimency?"

    "After hearing that, I'm actually more comfortable now, than before," Harry said with a little laugh. "If he'd said all that the other day I would have not been worried at all. I didn't know about Dumbledore either, but looking back it's beyond easy to tell he'd used it on us a lot. We always thought he was batty, but he _knew_ things. The right word to say, what we might get into next, how to help us in the various skirmishes we faced each year..." Sebastian's hand was squeezing him tightly. "Seb has been exactly what I needed him to be every step of the way. If it's true that he was actually responding _directly_ to my feelings that  _I_ was sending him myself, wouldn't it be madness to hold it against him? He's not the kind of man to do anything he doesn't want to do. He wanted to help. Should I be angry? Think poorly of him?"

    "You should _feel_ however you feel," Matilda said thoughtfully, "but feelings are not everything — they are just a thermometer for what's going on deeper within. You _not_ becoming angry means that there is a very strong foundation of trust for Sebastian. When something comes up, it is easy for you to give him the benefit of the doubt, instead of coming up with worst case scenarios. With your history, it is remarkable."

    "Well, he _is_ the love of my life," Harry said practically, smiling at Sebastian who was already staring back at him, perplexed and awed.

 

 

    "I do not understand your love for me," Sebastian told Harry as soon as they landed at home, in the entryway. They had taken to using Side-Along Apparition primarily when going somewhere together, so they could arrive more predictably in relation to each other, and the words floated softly in the small space between them.

    "So you tell me. All the time," Harry chided gently. He turned, letting Seb's arm go so he could lean his body against his front instead. "And yet, it still exists, irrespective to your feelings."

    "'Irrespective,' nice word," the man said, smiling down at him. Harry grinned widely at the old joke.

    "I learned it from Madame Droope."

    "Good for you." Sebastian's hand slipped past the folds of his open-front robe to press against the clothed erection Harry was hiding.

    "Did you feel that I needed something from you?" Harry asked, breath catching as those fingers slid firmly along the length of him.

    "Yes. I guessed what it might be."

    "Good guess."

    "Mmm."

    "Can you tell exactly what I want?"

    "No. It is a vague feeling. You'll have to use your mouth." The innuendo was whispered darkly down by his ear.

    "Super, totally, completely gladly. Would love to. Let's do it."

    Sebastian chuckled, then Apparated them upstairs.

    After stripping off their clothes Harry kept his word, shoving Sebastian onto the bed and then hovering above his legs as he loved his fiance's abundant length with his mouth. Long fingers pet his hair and gripped the bedspread alternatively as Harry applied himself with slightly more proficiency than the last — and first — time he'd tried.

    "If you keep up, I'll come," Sebastian warned breathlessly. Harry gave a thumbs-up, but didn't stop or speed up his movements. His lips and the back of his tongue ached with the extended bout of exercise but he was on a mission, to bring Sebastian to a gentle climax that had nothing to do with desperation and everything to do with purposeful, methodical loving.

    Flavour exploded onto Harry's tongue as Sebastian breathed out a long groan that was barely more vocal a sigh. It was more bitter than he had been expecting, with an astringent quality that filled his mouth and nostrils with the taste and smell of diluted bleach. He pulled off of Seb, careful not to drool any, and swallowed, choking slightly, stomach heaving as he gagged it down.

    "Are you... well?"

    "Oh my God, that tastes nothing like the book said it would."

    Seb snorted, then gave a little chuckle at Harry's pout. "I'm sure it will put you at ease when I tell you there's a potion that can help with that."

    Harry grinned. "The benefits to being engaged to a Potions master. Here, take this, don't let it get soft on us." He placed Seb's hand on his spent erection, and the man obediently stroked the base as Harry rolled off the bed to fetch the lube.

    "If you are expecting me to be able to come again, might I remind you that I am forty-four and it's not likely to happen," he said drily.

    "I just want you to keep feeling good for a little while longer," Harry responded lightly, slicking his member, thighs, and then climbing back onto the bed and taking over for Sebastian again, coating his shaft as well.

    "I don't understand where all this gentleness is coming from," Sebastian confessed as Harry lay on top of him and began to frot slowly with a contented sigh.

    "So you keep telling me," Harry said with a small grin.

    "I see you're a very patient teacher." His hands came around Harry easily, massaging and gripping his flesh as they traveled over his skin. "I do not know what I have done to deserve it." 

    Harry kissed him then, soft, with lips slightly parted. "Spoil me by letting me spoil you," he ordered, smiling indulgently. "In other words: stop thinking so much."

    "Yes, sir."

    Harry felt goosebumps pepper his skin. "Oh, my, that was sexy."

    "Don't think too much," Sebastian parroted back in a whisper, pulling Harry's head back to his in a far more heated kiss than before.

    "Mmmph," Harry protested into his mouth. "This is supposed to be a slow, spiritual experience."

    "You've been reading your book again, haven't you."

    Harry smiled, cheeky. "Yep. You better hang on for the ride."

    "The slow ride."

    Harry lifted up so they were only touching from their lower stomachs down, thrusting sensually against the older man and giving them both plenty to see as he did so.

    "That's right. Plus, I thought it would be a pleasant way to talk about some things."

    "Such as?" Sebastian gripped his rear and steered his movements, a little longer of a slide down and a quicker thrust up. Harry enjoyed the anticipation he felt as Seb's fingers spread his cleft wide open, though he knew that this time specifically that area would remain unexplored.

    "Such as I love you so much."

    "And I you."

    "And I think you should sell off the rest of your Polyjuice supply."

    "Harry —"

    "And what do you think about actually setting a date for the wedding?"

    "I —"

    "And I saw the invitation to show in a gallery in Madrid, I think you should go for it."

    "I felt that —"

    "The Trial has been scheduled for next week, will you come with me to it?"

    "I... of course I —"

    "I'm actually really grateful that you used your Legilimency to love me better."

    "That's —  _if you would just —_ Oh..."

    "That's it, you're feeling it aren't you."

    " _Harry..._ "

    " _Fuck_  yes, Seb, yes, so good —"

    Harry crashed their mouths together, pushing past the lactic acid burn in his butt and thighs to ride Sebastian completely through his orgasm, and then his own.

    "What was that all about?" Sebastian said afterwards, rubbing Harry's back as he lay completely boneless on their combined fluids.

    "I had wanted to discuss those things sweetly while we made love, but you felt too good so I had to say them all very quickly," Harry confessed sheepishly.

    Seb shook his head, and a moment later laughed as if the reaction had snuck up on him. "Best laid plans."

    "Yeah, just about." Harry snuggled into his neck, feeling the wet slide of their lower bodies as he did so.

    "Ugh. The mess..."

    "I know, I know, the bedspread — wait!" Harry popped up, beaming. "Stay here," he commanded, then with a careful scooching over on his clean hand and knees, he rolled off the bed and shuffled bow-legged to the bathroom not letting anything drip off his skin.

    "I know what you're doing!" Sebastian called after he'd scurried past the threshold. Harry grinned.

    "Good for you!" he shouted back.

    "Cleansing potion is in the linen closet, fill the sink with warm water and mix the potion in before wetting the rag with it," he instructed. Harry grimaced.

    "I had wanted to do this specially _for_ you," he grumbled as he returned, clean and bearing a damp towel, prepared according to the man's instructions.

    "And you are," Seb said warmly. "I'll shut my mouth and receive your affections now."

    Harry rolled his eyes. "You could answer a question or two."

    So Sebastian did. "Are you sure it's not too soon to set aside the potion? I think it is unwise."

    "Maybe keep just a small amount in case I... have an episode and don't recognise you," Harry relented, "but besides _actual_ mental breakdowns I'm completely at ease with your new — old — face."

    "You are a treasure."

    "You're just saying that 'cuz I'm currently _cleansing_ your willy," Harry teased casually.

    "Well it certainly helps matters. I'm completely out of ammo though."

    "Ooh, nice, Muggle reference. How about coming with me to Ginny's trial?"

    Sebastian sighed, his stomach rising and falling under Harry's careful scrubbing. Harry noticed that though his face was calm, his hands were tightly fisted by his sides. "I will not let you go _alone_ ," he said finally. "So of course I will come. _You_ will have to put up with _me_ tagging along."

    Harry Banished the rag back to the bathroom. He was sure it didn't end up in as desirable a place as when Sebastian did it, though he held hopes it had not landed in the toilet bowl. He sat on his shins next to Seb, and laid a still-damp hand on his chest. "What is it?" he asked simply.

    It took Sebastian a moment to respond. "I do not want to go to the court room," he confessed. "I went on trial during the first war and considered myself lucky to escape it this past time around. I may have been cleared and honored, but what if someone decides when I'm there in person that _I_ should have to testify to that effect anyway?"

    "Then I will rip them to shreds," Harry said, matter-of-factly. "Verbally, of course. Then if they press the matter I will consider other, more physical options."

    "My hero," Seb replied humorlessly.

    "And Madrid? I picked it face-up out of the trash, you know. Not very sneaky for a super-spy."

    "I knew you might find it,' Sebastian said, closing his eyes as if the previous topic had exhausted him, no matter how briefly they had touched on it.

    "So you threw it away, knowing I might find it and that I would know you weren't planning on going unless I took it upon myself to change your mind."

    "Yes."

    "You need to get better at broaching difficult topics with me. Hiding the lacewing shortage, the Prophet, art show invites, what else are you keeping back?"

    "Maybe I should use some of your sharing techniques."

    "Are you going to keep being sarcastic or are we going to talk about this?"

    Sebastian sighed. "I'm sorry, love. I threw it away because I did not want to be away from you so much. Every weekend, for two months. It's out of the question."

    Harry pinned him with a level stare. "You think I wouldn't want to be there to cheer you on for your big moment?"

    Sebastian eyed him, and then sat up to they could speak eye-to-eye. "Careful, sweetheart, you're slipping into sarcasm as well," he said, the with the driest tone yet, completely over-the-top.

    Harry laughed. "You win, definitely," he said, huffing out faux-exasperation.

    Sebastian leaned forward and cut off the last of his theatrics with a kiss. "If you would stay with me for those weekends then I might consider going."

    Harry regarded him seriously. "It's a really good opportunity. The guy said it might open doors with other gallery owners to have you do your own show, not just a couple pieces mixed in with other artists."

    "Which means more weekends, more traveling, and as your Department becomes official and you have scheduled work to do,  _more time apart_."

    Harry lifted a hand to play with the buzzed-short hairs on the back of Sebastian's neck. "You're the clingy one after all," he said warmly. "I would love to travel with you. Maybe we can get... a frequent-flyer Portkey for each destination and I can join you when my workday is done. Do they have those? Portkeys that work over and over for the same location?"

    "Illegal ones work as soon as you make them," Sebastian said slyly, smirking as if remembering doing exactly that. "But our good and honest Ministry boy wouldn't like that option, would he."

    "Ministry  _man,_ if I'm anything Ministry-related at all," Harry corrected, eyebrow raised. "If there's not such a thing I can easily talk to at _least_  five different people who could make it happen. _More_ , if the Department of Experimental Charms is feeling at all guilty after their research was used to hurt me."

    Sebastian raised an eyebrow at his haughty tone. "Funny, how I don't mind the arrogance if it means you fighting for us to be together easier."

    "I was just playacting," Harry said, shrinking immediately. Seb cupped his face to prevent him from completing his slump.

    "Why do my jokes not land well so often?" he complained. "I don't actually think you're arrogant, not anymore."

    "Maybe you should end your jokes with a catch phrase," Harry suggested facetiously. "' _I don't mind the arrogance, wiggedy-wiggedy_!'"

    "Not even if I was the only person on the entire planet would I do that," Sebastian said flatly, though his lip curled a bit. "I have dignity."

    "So you'll write back?"

    "I'll accept the offer," Sebastian said slowly, but Harry saw the glint in his eye. He was excited for it.

    "And the wedding date?" Harry bit his lip nervously. It was the most important question, in his mind.

    "Well, when I was looking out that window —" Seb said with a nod to the far wall. Harry followed his gaze and when Sebastian didn't follow up with what had happened when he'd apparently had some kind of revelatory look out at the neighborhood, he looked back at the man to see him holding a rather familiar sliver-bisected black box between them. The man's wand was on the bed by his leg and Harry realized he must have wandlessly summoned it in order to also retrieve the box.

    "Oh," he said, stunned. Sebastian opened the box to reveal a hammered-finish band almost identical to the one Harry had gotten him, except it was a slight bit thicker, to better compliment his own knobbly-knuckled fingers.

    "You can wait until the ceremony if you'd like to put it on," Sebastian said quietly. "But since we hadn't chosen a date I thought I might... propose back. I thought it would be a romantic gesture, but I am suddenly intensely aware that you might think I am insulting your proposal."

    "You're perfect," Harry said quickly, putting him out of his misery. "Did I ruin your plans by asking about the date?"

    Seb shook his head. "No, with all that happened it's just been sitting Disillusioned in my drawer."

    "I'd like to wear it," Harry whispered. "It that okay, even though we're technically not married yet?"

    "I hoped you would," Sebastian said, smiling again.

    With the ring placed snugly at the base of his finger, Harry pushed himself into Seb so that they fell back onto the bed, snuggling as they kissed in celebration.

    "I'm glad you got a matching one," Harry said when they resettled. He lifted his hand to admire the way his hand looked with Seb's ring on it, and the other man held his own left hand up as well so they hovered side by side.

    "It was my first thought," Sebastian admitted, "but I made myself look at every ring available to find the perfect one for  _you_ , as you did for me. When I walked into the shop that you must have gotten mine from and saw this one I just knew it was the right one."

    "It is," Harry confirmed. "I really, really, wanted to match. It's silly but I want it immediately known,  _he's mine._ "

    Sebastian's hand moved over to interlace his fingers with the backs of Harry's. Their rings clinked together as he squeezed. "That's exactly how I feel."

    "I love you so much, Seb. I can't wait to marry you and make our 'forever' official."

    "Me too, Harry."

    They let go of each other's hands and turned to each other, kissing as slowly as their lovemaking had been earlier.

    And then Harry's stomach growled angrily.

    Sebastian laughed. "It is well past lunch time. Let's feed that monster you're smuggling in there and talk about dates."

    Harry swatted Seb's bare behind as he left the bed to collect his clothes, but stayed behind for a moment to watch his former professor slip on his favored navy-blue robes, and idly resettled his hair in that stylish way, backwards from his forehead.

    "What?" the man asked upon catching the look.

    "Just loving you," Harry said easily in return. "Everything about you. I really, honestly, can't wait to marry you."

    Sebastian smiled, and held out his hand. "Well then, let's start planning." Harry grinned eagerly, and placed his hand in his fiance's.

    The trial loomed in their near future, but Harry had hope. So much hope that he couldn't have conceived of a year ago in his empty, stark apartment. And as they settled in to eat sandwiches they'd made together, and competed to come up with the smallest, most private wedding ideas ever, Harry knew after all his emotional and mental struggles — and those surely yet to come — he'd somehow lucked into the most perfect home available to Muggle or Wizard. The most perfect life. A new ring shone on his finger — almost perfectly identical to the one on his lover's — and it was only a matter of time until their legal status matched the one written on their hands and hearts.

    He _really_  couldn't wait to marry Sebastian Prince.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wowzers. This is it. The first story I've written from beginning to end without quitting halfway.
> 
> In the beginning writing I felt guilt and shame already, knowing I was posting something I wouldn't finish, and I would leave y'all hanging eventually. LOOK WHERE WE AT NOW, FRENS! Have I really finished a project for once in my life? (Insert "The Scream" emoji)
> 
> Thank you all so much for allowing me to share this with you. Every chapter I felt so nervously towards hitting 'Post'... like releasing a baby bunny into the wilderness... will it survive or will it get eaten: it's fur and bones vomited back up in the middle of the night by a grumpy owl? 
> 
> If you're interested to see snippets of what happens next in this universe, I will be posting the first epilogue-shot, featuring a first-person look at Ginny a few months (2? 3? The timing's not really important.) after her Obliviation is carried out. Her story is not over. :)
> 
> (Also... I will post the first *real* chapter of Tibimet Esto Fidelis (To Thine Own Self Be True) my A/B/O thing ;] and eh, why not, the first chapter of a project that's just been sitting discontinued for the last month or so. [Oops, forgot to put the name, it'll start with 'The Beginning'] Updates sprinkled on everyone and everything! Today is a day to celebrate!)


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